


Like Karela

by missema



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassination, Breaking and Entering, Chronic Illness, Coup d'état, Estrangement, F/M, Friendship/Love, Illnesses, Lies, Married Couple, Murder, Oral Sex, Royalty, Sexual Tension, Starkhaven (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: What if everything you'd ever wanted came true?That's what happened to Lady Melissa Hawke. She married a prince, got a castle and for three years was able to do whatever she wanted.Now what if that everything was broken?Her prince was sent away, said to be mad, her castle was a ruin and her days full of running a remote part of Starkhaven that the crown seemed intent upon forgetting.And what if it all was a lie?Her prince comes back to her, intent on protecting their son from the assassins that just staged a coup and murdered his family. Just one problem -- they don't have children. Sebastian Vael came home to her remote castle to find a woman that thought he was mad, no sign of a child, and an astounding amount of lies. Forced back into the path of danger, husband and wife are trying to stop assassins, take their rightful throne, the daunting task of trying to seek out the truth and navigate a marriage that never truly got started while keeping their own secrets.How can it all work?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This started out from a prompt bingo square in the Honors Classes short fic collection, so you'll recognize Chapter 2 from there. The prompt intrigued me, and for months I wanted to write more, but I needed to finish a story first. After finishing Any Way Out, I started on this story.
> 
> Karela is bitter melon, one of the bitterest foods on earth, but delicious when prepared properly. Sebastian's homecoming is Like Karela.

On his wedding day Prince Sebastian Vael was meeting his intended for the first time, and he fervently hoped he didn’t like her. Getting married was another part of his duty to his family, and he would do it, but the other part of his responsibilities required him to go back to do his part elsewhere. Lady Melissa Hawke of the Amell Kirkwall family was a noblewoman of little means and good lineage, though her mother had run off with an ill-bred Fereldan instead of the Orlesian comte she’d been promised to wed. From what Sebastian knew of the comte, Lady Amell had made the right choice. Aside than that bit of gossip so old that it was moldy, he knew little of his fiance, other than the way she looked in her engagement portrait.

Perhaps she would be older than depicted or priggish in nature, and then he wouldn’t feel so bad. He could be charming, make the completion of their marriage easier on both of them, but he by no means wanted to _like_ the girl, or worse, fall in love with her. Better that she was just that side of boring or plain, but not outright awful. They only would have about thirty-six hours in total together, but they need not be awful. There had been enough variety in his past bed partners that he felt confident that he could please a maiden from a backwater with a title she hardly understood. For a day and a half, they would be little more than a one night stand and something less than friends.

Sebastian buttoned the last ornamental button his overcoat, and checked himself in the mirror. The valet had helped him dress, but he liked to see the finished product for himself, put his stamp on it, so to speak. His uniform was hanging in the closet here in his room, and though it had been brushed and readied, he hadn’t wanted to wear it. For one day he didn’t have to be a soldier first, but a prince, so his outfit was that of a prince of the blood, one of the rightful heirs of Starkhaven. For all he knew, his bride might have done the same and would be garbed in the colors of House Amell. He hadn’t thought to ask before now.

He hoped he wouldn’t like her at all, because he would hate to have to leave behind someone that he could have learned to love.

“It is time, sire,” his valet said, and Sebastian took one last look in the mirror and then nodded at him.

They were to be wed in the Chantry in Starkhaven, near Vael Castle where his family lived. His wedding, unlike that of his two elder brothers, was not a public event. There were no feasts or celebrations for him, no holiday called so the common man could partake of his joy. It was just a day for the families, a wedding in the late afternoon and party in the evening, then a day for them to get to know each other. He had to leave at five in the morning the day after, so he could report to his CO at six. The fighting seemed so far away from him in this grand Chantry, the one where he’d gone growing up, filled with the same large golden Andraste and the scent of incense. Here, he could forget there was anything outside of the walls, which was a blessed relief most of the time, but unnerved him now thinking that his soon to be wife was somewhere in here with him.

When he got to the dais where he would be married, there was nothing more to do but wait. He stood with his family, his two brothers and his father with him, none of them speaking. That was quite like them all, though his father had congratulated him when he first came out. Now the four of them stood in a strained silence, waiting for the woman he’d eventually have to abandon. With this deal that his parents had brokered for him, they’d promised he’d be back to his wife within a year to eighteen months, after this last tour of duty to lead the push on the Tevinters. Then he would finally be free of this duty he’d pledged to do as a green boy that had no idea what war was about.

Whatever was left of his inheritance and army pay would be for him and his wife; he might even give her an allowance and let her stay in the country if it suited her. They could live apart, as many couples did, and he could finally go on with his life as a full prince of Starkhaven. At the moment he was twenty-seven years old, two years older than his bride, and he had yet to live his own life. He had plans for the time when his service was over, when he was free. He’d thought about his future plans extensively, and as Sebastian stood there waiting for a first glimpse of his wife, two things happened.

The first was that he noticed that his brothers weren’t meeting his eyes. He hadn’t been looking at them, not really, his mind off planning a future that would happen no matter his desires. It was at the very moment that the music started that he noticed his eldest brother Graham and his middle brother Orion share a look, and then glance at him, only to turn away. He noticed their discomfort for the first time, the stiffness in their shoulders and the way their eyes darted around the Chantry and wondered what they knew that he didn’t.

But he had only a little time to ponder that, because the second thing was that his bride started down the long aisle towards him and Sebastian was transfixed. At first he merely thought that his curiosity had gotten the better of him, that he was simply unable to look away because he was finally laying eyes on the Lady Melissa Hawke for the first time. Then when Sebastian drew in a ragged breath, he knew better. He couldn’t look away because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her mother, Leandra, Lady Amell, he’d met. They looked a little alike, though Leandra was a handsome enough woman of a certain age. Lady Melissa was like her only in height and coloring alone. She was wearing red like an Orlesian Chantry sister, but her gown was not overly modest. It had been made to fit her slender curves perfectly, playing up the narrowness of her waist and the flare of her hips, and gathering up a somewhat modest bust and pushing it into inviting decolletage. She was short of stature, but graceful in her movements, practiced as if she’d lived her whole life in Kirkwall among the nobility. Long hair the color of obsidian ran down to the middle of her back, a shimmering dark curtain that picked up every bit of burnished candlelight and gleamed. No Ferelden braids this time, just gleaming black hair, unbound.

The best thing about her was her expression, the tiny, hopeful smile that she gave him, and they way her eyes were fixed on him. They lit up as she drew closer, and he could see her relief, pleased that he was as his portrait had depicted, or perhaps better than that mere likeness. He certainly hoped he was better in the flesh.

Then she was next to him, and she held out her dainty, gloved hand for him to take. Sebastian could feel the heat of her hand through it. Without thought, he bent over her hand and kissed the top of it, as if they were courtiers just introduced at a party and not two people about to be wed. Lady Melissa beamed at him, and her full, true smile was like a healing wave of magic.

“Lady Melissa,” he murmured, returning her smile with one of his own.

“Prince Sebastian,” she replied, and the sound of his name on her lips made his heart stutter. Her accent was still Fereldan, still broad and somewhat country but he could hear the notes of Kirkwall training in just those two words. It was a curiously charming blend that made her sound somehow more provincial than if her accent was simply one or the other.

After they’d greeted each other, they turned as one to the Grand Cleric, who was waiting with an indulgent look on her weathered face. Lady Melissa did not relinquish his hand, instead clasping it tightly. She was nervous still and he squeezed it to reassure her. Odd that he wanted to calm her, despite the fact that this was their first meeting.

Maybe it would only be a year to finish out his service instead of the eighteen month maximum he’d been told “probably wouldn’t happen”. In a year, he’d love to get to know her better. It would be a shame to leave this delectable creature all alone for too long. Luckily he’d have tonight to get to know her, after the celebration was over and they were finally alone. He would have to remember not to drink too much wine; he wanted to make tonight memorable for the both of them. Melissa gave him another warm, hopeful smile, and this time Sebastian didn’t bother to turn back to the Grand Cleric or take his eyes off her. He wanted to drink her in, remember the first time he’d seen her on this day, the way she made him hold his breath. Oh, this was going to be awful. He was going to hate to leave her for eighteen months.

Yes, he’d make sure it was only a year. Less if he had any say in it. He’d come back to his bride as soon as he possibly could.


	2. The Mad Prince

**Three Years Later**

If Princess Melissa hadn't already known her husband was mad before he ran screaming into her home, then she certainly would have known afterwards.

His carriage, pulled by four fast horses, already sweating and in need of a change, pulled up to the gates where the guard tried to stop him. They were not enough, the gate and walls themselves were no match for whatever drove him. By the time her estranged husband was in the house, all manner of shouting had brought the princess rushing down from the tower room where she conducted business and maintained a study.

"Where is he?" Sebastian was yelling, his bellow so loud that it made the items on the tables nearest him shake. "Where is my son? Find him! Bring my wife and son here!"

A son? Melissa was a perplexed as anyone about why her husband would think his bastard housed here, and she stepped out the shadows to come confront the man. She kept a grip on her dagger as she did, cursing that she only had the one and was clad in a dress. It was early afternoon, and though she expected no one for tea, she had dressed for it, tired of her customary work clothes and armor.

"I am here, Prince Sebastian. Your Highness, calm yourself," she began, but Prince Sebastian seized her, gripping her in large, strong hands that were so tight she couldn't begin to move. Her dagger clattered to the floor as her fingers were unable to maintain the grip, though he caused her no pain. It was if he touched her in just the right way to make her limbs useless in a fight.

"Where is my son?" he asked her, and though he was no longer yelling, his eyes hadn't lost their madness.

"I know not of whom you speak, Prince Sebastian."

"You're hiding him! I want to see my son!"

"I most certainly am not. I would do no such thing to a child, though if you would be as rough with your son as you are with me, I would be a shield," Melissa said, chin jutting out. "But I have not met your son. Is the mother a maid or some other woman of the house?"

"A maid?" Sebastian sputtered, looking at her askance and relaxing his hold on her. She took the chance to step away from it, though not out of reach of him. "You jest, woman. You bore me a son, after our wedding. I was told we had a child. You wrote to me about him."

Melissa was thoroughly confused, and shook her head. "I did no such thing, Your Highness. We have no children, and since I've not seen you in three years, we've had not the chance since we wed." Melissa flushed after saying that, it was unseemly to talk of such thing in front of her household, but allowances must be made. Her husband was obviously mad, confused and prone to other disturbing emotions. Plain speech worked best in such circumstances.

"She speaks truly, Prince Sebastian," a voice said, and Melissa whirled, angry that another person was in her home without her permission. He'd brought guards, or at least this one. She hadn't seen soldiers coming from the carriage, but she supposed he must have some. "I have had a search of the bedrooms, and there is no indication of a child living here, though my search was rushed and there are many rooms." The man was an elf, and his body was limned in lines of magic, white tattoos with a blue tinge that crossed every visible part of his body, even disappearing into his shock of white hair. She could smell lyrium on him, and knew it was the magic within him that made him especially deadly, despite the giant sword he wielded.

"Did you send him away?" he asked, eyes darting to her and around the room again. Melissa stood her ground.

"Do not persist in this madness! I have no children, and I know not what lies you were told, but you and I have nothing together, not even a true marriage."

The silence in the house was so thick that it felt like a blanket of fresh, heavy snow and had all the impenetrability of a blizzard. "I do remember our wedding correctly," Sebastian said, his voice tinged with anger, "and I know we have a valid marriage, no matter how long it has been since we were wed."

"Legally valid though it may be, that is not what I meant, and you know it. We have no children, do not know each other."

"Why did you write me such lies?" Sebastian asked, turning on her once again. "Answer me!"

"I did no such thing, and will not answer to a madman making demands in my home."

"I am not mad," Sebastian insisted, and took a step back from her.

Now that he wasn't yelling, she could see him little changed from the version of the man she remembered, though he was darker and had more lines about his bright blue eyes. The sweep of his auburn hair was the same, the softness of his mouth, though his face was lightly spattered with freckles that she had no memory of seeing before. It was strange that he was so dark, would he be if he had been in a sanitarium as she was told? Doubt began to creep into her mind as she compared this raving Sebastian to the man she'd met only once before. That man hadn't yelled, but smiled sadly, the expression never touching his eyes in the scant few hours she'd known him after their wedding.

She thought he was going to take out a knife or maybe some other kind of weapon, but instead he unfolded a worn letter. It was carefully folded, though heavily read, with her name was signed at the bottom though it was not written in her hand. She skimmed the fanciful and poorly written exploits of a woman and her son, and slowed down to read the closing aloud.

"Sebastian, I beg of you for the sake of our child, please stay away and let us live free. If you have love for your son, let him grow in peace, away from the court and trappings of royal life. We are protected and like the quiet. This is the last I will write, but know that I wish you well. Your wife, Melissa."

"But I did not write this, would not write it, these are not my words. Had we a child, I wouldn't keep you from them. I have written to you every week, as your mother demanded. I thought you in a sanitarium for your health. When she visited, your mother made it seem as if you were very ill, and I should not visit for fear of upsetting you. But I did write, faithfully. I kept copies in my study."

He opened his mouth to respond to her, but only a small moan came out. Something about the nature of it alarmed her, and not just her, the elf guard that Sebastian had brought with him. They both rushed towards him, but the elf reached him first, though not in time. Her husband, a man she had not seen in three years and was known as mad not just to her, but to all of the people of town, then fainted into a heap of man and armor upon her hearth rug.

#

His head throbbed as if all of the blood in his body were sluggishly working through his skull at once. The air around them was damp and cold, and Sebastian couldn't remember where he was at first. He'd been so many places the past three years, and lived in none of them. As he toppled further into wakefulness, the past few days came to the forefront of his mind, and he groaned. He sat up to find Fenris at the door, and no one in the room with him. The room, though unfamiliar, was certainly still at Lothian Castle, which meant his wife was somewhere around.

His wife, Melissa. Had she always been such a small woman? Sebastian couldn't rightly recall after three years away, though he remembered how much smaller than him she'd been on their wedding night. That night had other things he remembered as well, and some he held very close all of these years apart. Brave though, as he'd seen then and now, when she wouldn't flinch from his yelling. He had her portrait, and that's how he recalled her best, the smiling, still face of the woman that sat for a painting to gift to her betrothed. Long black hair pulled into Ferelden braids to honor that portion of her heritage, small brown eyes that shone merrily, full lips that begged for his kiss. In the portrait she'd become larger than life, but in person, she was tiny and cool, her eyes betraying none of the happiness he'd seen painted in them. He had wondered if his son had his eyes or hers.

A lance of pain that had nothing to do with his swoon cascaded through him. These past years he had lived for the thought of meeting his son at long last. He'd dreamed of nothing but coming home to his wife and making amends, having the family that should have been his. His fanciful imagination had even led him to entertain the idea of more children, though he recognized he had work to do before it could happen, work to do to make things right with Lady Melissa. Even if she did not want him any longer, and from the letters he'd received he thought Melissa had grown to hate him for leaving her with a child, his intention was to come here and make peace, even if it couldn't restore his marriage.

But then everything went to hell.

"You're awake. You must be careful Your Highness, your wounds will not heal if you continue to overtax yourself. I administered a poultice and gave you a potion after you fell," Fenris said, looking in the room and seeing Sebastian sitting up in bed. "Your wife thought to find the healer, but they are away assisting with a birth at one of the outlying farms. She wanted to sit with you, but I would not allow it. She is unknown and could be dangerous to you, especially after your entrance downstairs. Or she may be part of the plot against your family, I cannot say."

"Which grows ever murkier."

They only thing that kept him in the bed was the fact that it had taken him some few days to locate his wife, and then it was only by the fickle hand of luck that he obtained it from the office of the factor his family used. He thought the secrecy was to protect his son, and the lie of the promise of a family filled him with renewed rage. Sebastian had to take a pointed breath to release some of it. The lie had been as cruel as it was intended to be, though he knew not whom it benefited.

"Yes. I believe she intends to clear some of it up," Fenris said, and nodded to a stack of letters tied in a bundle on the carved wood bedside table. "She brought those, and they are in her hand. I cannot tell what they say, you know that my reading is not strong, but the shapes do not match the notes that were delivered to you in the field."

"If my head would stop hurting, I might be able to read them. Blast. What time is it? Did she eat?"

"She said to ring for a tray from the kitchens, but that barley water on your table is safe. It is nearly nightfall, and I had to assume you wouldn't wake before we could find an inn for the night. I didn't want to presume to take over her house, but I made some changes. Considering what we walked into before, I thought it prudent."

"Aye," Sebastian agreed, but didn't say more. Fenris rang for the food and went outside while Sebastian picked up the bundle of letters and untied them with a shaking hand. Damn. Damn fool thing for him to do bursting in here like that, but he had been scared. His son and wife were in danger, and he needed to get to them. Now he had.

Sebastian took a drink of the barley water and let the coolness of his clear some of the sleep from him. The first letter he picked up was the newest, and he saw at once that Fenris was right. The shapes of the letters, the brush of the quill, even the way they were slanted didn't match the ones he'd received. All of them were addressed to him, some simply said 'Prince Sebastian' but others were to 'my dear husband' and always included her wishes for him to get better. These had parts scratched out, and blots of ink -- they were drafts. But she'd kept them, when they could have easily been tossed into the fire. Pain prickled between his eyes, but Sebastian didn't put the letter down. He read it, and then the next one. He was reading another when the food finally came.

When he got through the few that she'd left him, for there had to be more after three years, he went to find Melissa.

#

It was late, but she couldn't yet sleep. The work for the day had been interrupted, her house in disarray, and she had a good number of new people to accommodate on her rather meager stores, but they could do it. Melissa sighed, sweeping the dark curls of her that had escaped from her chignon away from her face. What else could she do?

As she had so often in the past, she went to pick up her quill and write a letter, but she put it back down immediately. The solace that had once come from writing to Sebastian, the husband she might never have known, was shattered by his presence in her home. It was hard to see him as her confidant, a silent and sheltered husband she wished to know when he'd fainted from apoplectic anger in her front room. She still didn't know what to make of him, from the bellowing to the belief he had a son, to the swoon, he certainly seemed as mad as his princess mother made him out to be.

The moons shone brightly in the chilly night sky, and she looked out the sliver of a window towards Ferelden, though it was miles and seas away. She was in the far south of Starkhaven, as far as she could be away from the center of the city and Vael Castle. The prince and princess had settled her in this place, almost a ruin when she'd come, and told her to make it her own. They sent an allowance, and at first they visited her, encouraged her to write to Sebastian for his health.

She had believed he was in a sanitarium, because she had no notion of who he was save for what she was told, and the little she could remember. They were wed so quickly, and she hadn't met him before. He came alone to Kirkwall to ask Mother for her hand while she was in Orlais, and a month later they were wed. The rumors flew fast and thick right after their marriage -- that he was in Kirkwall whoring around town, or that he was in Val Royeaux pretending to be a chanter -- those were the kind rumors. There were the ones that said he had the pox so bad no mage could heal it and had gone mad from that, and the others that insinuated him to be a murderer or thief, or that he was as mad as his parents had told her he was and was never, ever coming back to her, despite her hopes.

"You are a far more compelling writer than whoever wrote to me," Sebastian said, and his voice was quiet as it interrupted her thoughts. He stood in her doorway and Melissa turned to him, rising from her chair as she did. She didn't know if she should curtsey or not, but she did so just in case.

"I am sorry, Your Highness. I had no idea my letters weren't reaching you, or that someone was sending false ones in their place. To what end I wonder?" Melissa mused, looking at him. His hair was rumpled with sleep, and jaw shadowed with stubble, but he was clean and had changed from his traveling clothes.

It was obvious now that he was a soldier, though she hadn't known it before. The bearing of him, the wideness of chest and broadness of his shoulders caught her attention, but she made herself concentrate on him overall. His physique was of a man that had been very active, not sitting wasting away someplace body and mind, and she'd already noted the darkness of his complexion, though he wasn't as brown as she was.

That night, on their one night together, she'd realized he was an archer from the beautiful asymmetry of his sculpted body, the callouses on the pads of the fingers he dragged over her belly, but everyone used a weapon, skill with one did not necessarily mark a trained soldier. She herself used daggers and was handy with a bow as well and knew much of hunting. It meant nothing to use see signs of training in a person. He had not wed her in his uniform, but in finery, deceiving her without intent. He was a soldier, it was plain to her, and one that had been at the front far too long. Much more than that, she couldn't know, and Melissa wasn't sure what was truth and what false now. She'd been lied to for a very long time, perhaps from the very moment she'd consented to an engagement with a prince she'd never even laid eyes on.

"Are you well?" she asked, and Sebastian began to nod, but then thought better of it.

"I am, and I am sorry for frightening you. I thought that the servants were deliberately hiding you and, uh, our son. I have apologized."

"Where have you been, Sebastian?" she asked, and then Melissa clapped her hand over her traitorous mouth. She hadn't wanted to just say those words, but there they were, out in the open already before she had time to work up to them. She let her arms fall to her sides and hugged herself instead, waiting for the answer.

"Fighting the Tevinters at first, then to the Anderfels for my father, to Par Vollen after that. But that is unimportant. How did you live?" he asked, and they exchanged looks of confusion.

"I had an allowance," she started, but he held up a hand.

"There was an attack on Vael Castle, and my family has been murdered. All of them. I thought that I'd reach you too late, and you would share their fate. The palace was sacked a week ago now," he told her, voice heavy as he said the words.

Shock flooded through her, and now she could understand some of his frenzy when he'd arrived. "Truly? That is awful! I offer my condolences, Your Highness, but I had no idea."

"I don't know who started this coup, but I feared for you and our son," he said, ending on a hard laugh. "I came here as quickly as I could. I didn't know where you were, so it took me longer to reach you than I would have liked," Sebastian said, and turned to look at her. "I thought you were hiding from me, though that may have spared you the blades that killed my parents and brothers."

"But I would not hide from you. I was _waiting_  for you, even if I had to take care of you myself. No one comes here, not even the prince and princess for the last year or so. I suppose I look like any other noble to an outsider, and the people here call me Lady Melissa. Those that know I am wed to you were told the same as I, that you were unwell and that Lothian Castle was to be a refuge."

"You thought me mad?"

"Your parents said so, no, they  _insisted_. They gave my family money to keep it quiet, but rumors got out anyhow. I was told that I should write to aid your recovery, so I did, at least once every week, usually more. Those were the letters I left you, at least some of them, I always do two copies, and sent the cleaner one." She squeezed her eyes shut and went on, fighting the urge to cry as she spoke. "I stayed, and waited as I was told, I am faithful. Your madness was incurable your mother said, and told me that one day you may need to come here to live without anyone knowing who you were. So I prepared. I restored this house and made it easier to use, and then I waited," Melissa finished, feeling silly about all of it, her gullibility and her tears. She had been tricked so easily, she could see that now.

"I was never locked away, my lady, though I did spent time in hospital after being injured on the front. Nevermind that now. We must prepare for assassins. They may have followed me, though we took pains make sure we weren't. It was my intent to find you and leave with my family, to go into hiding," Sebastian said. He walked over to the window and looked out it before turning back to her. "I have few soldiers and am not sure who to trust besides Fenris, but I owe you protection at the very least."

"Do you? I think I am owed more than that," Melissa said. She wasn't haughty about it and even managed to keep the anger out of her voice, but Maker, she'd been abandoned. Whatever the reasoning behind orchestrating this farce of a marriage, she'd kept it up for three years, and she wanted more than to be chased from her home in the name of saving her life. "This place was once a keep, and some of the old traps still work. Soldiers can placed at strategic points, and I know the passages and backways better than anyone. I've been restoring this place to the best of my ability since you left me."

"It was war that kept me away, not insanity. I always intended to come back from the fighting, until I thought you didn't want me," Sebastian said, a note of pleading in his voice. "Please believe that."

She shook her head, and stood up from her desk. "We should prepare if we're to go about saving our own lives. I need my armor and daggers. I want to make sure this old fortress is safe before I retire tonight."

"Right," Sebastian said. He hesitated as she walked by and then stuck out a hand to halt her leaving the room. "Was there no child after our wedding night?"

"Your mother gave me the potion to prevent the seed from planting in my womb before you came to me that night." Melissa shook her head, trying hard to recall it without any undue emotion. As much as she may have worried for and missed him while he was gone, she didn't regret that night. "The princess said that your sickness might infest any child we got together and that I would have a chance later, should you get better. I thought it a mercy at the time."

"Why did she do this to me? What reason did they have for keeping us apart these years? he asked, anguish arcing through the questions as he spoke, breaking his voice. For the first time since he'd broke into her house yelling, she saw a glimpse of the kind, soft-spoken man she'd met and married on the same day.

"I'd tell you to ask them, but you just told me they were dead. If you don't want to join them, I suggest we get to work," Melissa said, her voice a little harsher than she'd intended. It had the correct effect however, because Sebastian snapped back to himself, the soldier in his bearing now as he led her down the stairs to the bedrooms.


	3. Malmagica

There were so many things to attend that night, and without his wife at his side, Sebastian might have been overwhelmed at the size of the task. It was the fact that his wife was at his side that made the task so strange and yet easier to manage. Fear shared was halved, or something like that; the feeling was one he’d had before in the foxholes of the front, and it was easy for him to fall back into it. They had taken her soldiers in hand and they were ready, with Fenris leading their personal guard.

The stores for the castle were enough for over six months, if they needed to barricade down. He rather thought they wouldn’t; that wasn’t how assassins worked generally, but it was good to know the option was there. She had apologized profusely for the state of her stores, castles were made to withstand sieges that lasted years, but she’d been on her own out here and trying to rebuild as well as keep stores. From what Melissa told him of how dilapidated she’d found Lothian Castle when she came, it was an impressive feat to have anything ready at this point.

“Tell me about the defenses here,” he said, motioning to the area below them. They were standing on the ramparts looking down. Below them, he could see the village in its sprawling, circular pattern. They were behind walls here, but he had ridden through that gates that day and knew the guards to be easily intimidated.

“On this part of the castle?” she asked, then answered before he could clarify, “Well, the towers are round here, which makes it an excellent point for archers. Ahead of us is the gatehouse, which I repaired first, so the barbican is working. How did you get through this afternoon?”

“Speed,” he said, smiling a little into the darkness. “But also one of your guards recognized me and told them to stand down.”

“All of your family was confirmed dead?”

“I saw them to the pyres myself, though I didn’t stay for the public services. I imagine that’s happening now. I had to reach you, to see,” he trailed off. It hurt to think of her dead too, though at the time he had been envisaging a unit, his dead wife and son, the son he never got to meet and the wife he’d lost the chance to know.

“What are your plans now that you see I am safe?”

“I would keep you that way, and the best way to do that is to have you at my side,” Sebastian answered promptly, and then turned away from her, gaze once more over the sprawl of the darkened town. He could see lit lanterns and fires as speckles of light and curls of smoke coming from thatched roof cottages. He delivered his next words casually, as if the thought had just come to him and hadn’t been filling him with rage for the past week. “And I would like to know who is trying to wipe out my family, and for what reason before I kill them.”

“Prince Sebastian,” she began, but he cut her off.

“No, don’t do that. You were waiting for me, were you not? Well, here I am. It’s not to your liking, I know, to have the situation reversed and I am here to take care of you, but that is what we have to work with, Your Highness. Let me do this, ensure your safety now, since I failed to be able to do so for the last three years, and we both wound up deceived.”

“I wasn’t going to protest, Prince Sebastian. With the news of the Vael family’s demise, I would welcome the help,” Melissa said, and she moved closer to him. At first he thought she was about to confess more, that she was glad he was back, that she was frightened by this whole mess, but instead she pointed into the distance. “There’s horses on the road. It must be the healer coming back from the birth. When they get my note, they will come here to check on you. We should be ready for the visit.”

She stood almost next to him, and he looked down at her more than the road. Melissa was about five inches shorter than him, not as small as he’d guessed at their wedding. Though three years had passed, he still wanted her the same way he had on that dais, looking at his wife for the first time. She was still absolutely breathtaking; her body looked much the same to him, and he cast an appreciative eye over Melissa as she stood there. Time had left her very much unchanged in the way she looked, but there was a distance to her demeanor that wasn’t there on their one hopeful night, though he couldn’t blame her for cultivating a defense. It was what he would have done.

“You look almost as you did when I left that morning. I kissed you goodbye, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve thought of nothing but our time together for these past three years,” he said. “Has time not touched you?”

Quiet stretched between them for a time, and though she didn’t say it, he knew she was watching the horse on the road while she mulled over an answer. She watched it to ensure it returned safely, the tension in her muscles was like a coiled spring, ready to snap into action at the first sign of trouble on the highway. The healer made it to the curtain wall without incident, and she answered him in a low voice.

“Time stands still for no one, Your Highness,” Melissa said, and then made to leave the rampart. “You should update your knight, I am sure he will want to be informed if we are expecting someone to the castle.” With her last words, she disappeared, leaving him alone in the night.

#

Melissa strongly suspected she knew what ailed her husband, though it wasn’t madness and couldn’t have taken three years to manifest. It would explain why he was back now, which was unlucky timing for whomever was planning a coup. She did know for certain that Sebastian was ill. After years of researching medical texts to figure out how she could be accommodate him when he came home, she’d discovered an interest in the medical sciences. He had the signs of malmagica and had just about confirmed it in her mind when he’d mentioned fighting the Tevinters and in Par Vollen. It was likely he’d been afflicted during his service. Malmagica was an infectious disease spread by insect bite, but not incurable and didn’t cause any damage to the mind.

Mages could make diseases inadvertently with their magic, because it was energy that spilled over into the environment. Insects and other things were often in the fallout of a spell but not under direct fire, and it altered them, caused disease within them. This is where her knowledge grew shaky, she didn’t know how it changed the insects and rodents and whatever else sopped up the extra magic from a spell, but it did. The result was that they were infectious things, especially when one had been fighting with magisters and saarebas and all of that, and malmagica was one of the common diseases of soldiers fighting in the front. It came complete with fainting spells, headache, joint pain, fatigue, fever and the worst part, resistance to magical healing. But it went away in time, as all magic spells did, though the duration and intensity varied from person to person.

When he’d come to her in the study, he’d touched his head like it ached, and flexed his fingers to bring them back to life, rolled his neck as if it were stiff and made it crack and pop loudly. Those small motions, combined with his swoon made her nearly sure of the diagnosis. She couldn’t know, not until the healer came, but she would warn them not to use magic. It wouldn’t work on him if her diagnosis was correct. There was the off-chance that it wasn’t, but Melissa was almost certain of herself in this case.

“Where will we spend the night?” Sebastian asked her, catching up after she’d left him on the ramparts. She’d had no doubt he would follow her, but Melissa wasn’t sure at all how she felt about that. Her husband was here, in her house, the one she’d been trying to make for both of them when she thought him in need of constant care. Having him here now as a relatively healthy man and the new Prince of Starkhaven to boot wasn’t what she’d planned at all, and it was just confusing to her.

“We should stay together,” she began slowly, and pretended not to notice the gleam in his eye when she did. He liked her; he always had, and she quite liked him, but he was less confused than she was about their reunion. Then again, he hadn’t thought anything wrong with her for the past three years, just that she was angry with him. To her, he had been a lost hope, and then a project, but here was a man she’d gotten nothing but a false impression of, but then again, he’d been fed lies too. “It is easier to protect us when we’re together, though conversely easier to slaughter us too, I suppose. But I fear we still have some work ahead of us before we can retire.”

“May I call you Melissa?” he asked.

“You always have.”

“I thought I might ask permission before assuming again. As you said before, we weren’t very well acquainted when I left, and I don’t want to presume,” he said, giving her a sidelong smile.

“My family calls me Lissy,” she admitted, unsure why she’d told her nickname. His smile was still there, like an offering in the night and she would be lying if she claimed any immunity to his charm. Her husband, she’d found out after their marriage, had been a rake in his youth. When she thought him in a sanitarium, she hadn’t wondered about his fidelity. It was assumed that he was too ill to engage in such affairs, but the man next to her was hale and vital, and she found it hard to believe he waited three years for a wife he thought didn’t want him to bother her.

“Tell me about them. I remember you had siblings that were twins,” he said, surprising her.

“You have a good memory, Your Highness.”

“No, don’t start that. Let me be Sebastian and I’ll call you Melissa if you’ll allow it,” he said. Before she could make an answer he went on, “Your siblings, a brother and a sister, but forgive me their names have escaped me.”

“Bethany and Carver. They are well as far as I know. Carver came once to visit me here and helped with some of the repairs. Bethany is laying in with her first child. I had thought to go there to keep her company,” she said trailing off on the last thought.

“And she’s younger than you?” he asked, and she heard it in his voice. There was a scratchy note to it, and in that there was longing underlaid in his baritone. He wanted children, and if she hadn’t realized that by the unholy furor he’d raised when he came in, the yearning was made plain now. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that; twelve hours ago this man hadn’t been in her life at all and now she knew of his desire to have children with her.

“Yes, she’s younger. Your Highness, we must go on if I’m to acquaint you with everything important in a timely manner. There will be time to converse later.”

She sincerely hoped there was no time later, because she didn’t want to hear what Sebastian had to say. A look of consternation crossed his face but he didn’t mention her reversion to formality. All he did was hold out his arm, again with the courtier’s manners, proffering it to her. Though she didn’t want to take his arm, it felt churlish to refuse it. He was only being mannerly, and it was her confusion on everything that made her uncharitable. She took it and slipped her arm through his, warming immediately from the nearness of him. Wait, he was too warm.

“Are you running a fever?” she asked, thinking of the malmagica symptoms.

If she hadn’t been looking at his face, she wouldn’t have known he was lying. His jaw tightened momentarily, but his voice was as casual as if she’d remarked on the weather. “There’s no need to worry, Melissa. What happened earlier was because of exhaustion. I’m tired, nothing more.”

She didn’t answer, but led him on through the castle, and though she tried to remain on task her mind wandered. There had been so many mornings that she prayed to the Maker on bended knee in the Chantry, thinking of Sebastian. After time had passed, she hadn’t even wished for him to come home again to her, just for him to be better. Well, he was here with her, but she couldn’t be sure he was well, and the irony of it made a dull ache in her heart that Melissa couldn’t ignore, try as she might.

#

Fenris didn’t look surprised when he caught up with Sebastian and Melissa and found him arm in arm with her. His wife and Fenris had apparently talked at some point and come to an accord about their safety, because Fenris wanted only to confirm her orders with him. The only thing that didn’t please Fenris was Melissa’s correct guess that the healer was headed here after their return from the farms. The healer, a man named Godfrey, called upon them not a half hour after they’d spotted him on the road. Though exhausted, he managed to hide it with good spirits as he sat Sebastian down in his room and examined him.

There were too many people in here for his liking. Melissa would have to go, but Fenris and his hovering wouldn’t do him any good either. Thinking fast, Sebastian sent them both on to check on the rest of the defenses while he spoke with the healer. What he had to say was confidential, but he had to be quick otherwise his wife or Fenris would come back. Fenris already knew, of course, but he would worry like a mother hen if Sebastian let him.

“Healer Godfrey, before we begin, I must tell you that I’ve spent years fighting the Tevinters and in Par Vollen. I had some rather dubious medical treatments in the Anderfels as well, and too many bar fights in Antiva,” Sebastian said, trying to soften his disclosure with humor.

“Your Highness, I am sure your scars are nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ve patched up a good number of guards and mercenaries in my day,” Godfrey said.

“I have malmagica. It is recurrent, but I was diagnosed with it less than a year ago.”

“Ah, my dear boy,” Godfrey said, giving him a tired, pitying look, “you are in for a long recovery period. Let me take a look.” Godfrey laid his hands upon Sebastian at his nodding consent and sat on the edge of the bed he’d woken up in, with Godfrey summoning his warm magic to his hands. The gentle probing of his magic strangely reminded him of his childhood, of the healer that attended on him when he skinned his knees or caught a cold. He made various clucking noises with his tongue and hummed to himself, but didn’t say much at all as he examined Sebastian. “I suppose that’s what made you faint earlier. It said you’d collapsed in the note.”

“I was overtaxed. My family was attacked, I am not sure the news has reached here yet. Murdered at the palace.” Godfrey started at the statement and Sebastian was certain that information would be all over the village before the morning was done. “I was scared for my wife.”

“Naturally,” Godfrey said, in a voice made hollow with shock. “A dreadful tragedy, Your Highness. Accept my deepest condolences.” It took him a moment to regain his wits, but he got back to it after a breath or two. Godfrey picked up one of Sebastian’s hands, tested it and then set it down again, only to repeat the same test on the other side.

The mage was tired, and Sebastian could see him wavering as he sat down in the guest chair in the room. Sebastian got up and poured him a glass of barley water, which Godfrey took with a grateful wave of thanks. He drained it and Sebastian got him a second glass, and after then Godfrey spoke.

“I cannot lie; it’s as bad of a case as I’ve ever seen, Your Highness. Funny, with all the rumors about you I expected you to be in worse health, but other than the malmagica, you seem to be fine. It’s a shame more magic can’t dispel it. It will take time and rest, and I suppose you have all the necessary medicines?”

“The army doctor gave me the powder packets to dissolve in water. Other than that I’ve only been taking medicine for fever and pain as needed,” Sebastian answered. His medicine bag was the only thing he’d checked twice before they’d left on their mad dash to find his wife, and he found he was still anxious over the state of it. He wanted to triple check that it was here, but it had to be otherwise Fenris couldn’t have given him a poultice after his unfortunate fainting incident earlier.

“Then I’m afraid nothing more can be done. I regret that I am of no help to you.”

“Not at all. It’s good to know I am in otherwise good health. Thank you for taking the time after you’ve come from such an exhausting patient,” Sebastian said, offering his hand to help Godfrey up. The older man let himself be pulled to his feet and then Sebastian opened the door for him. As he expected, there was a soldier outside the door, one of his men, Lucian. Not Fenris, but someone they both trusted.

“You know,” Godfrey said as he started to leave, “Her Highness is interested in medicine. She might well guess before too long. She is quite the apothecary herself. If you have any difficulty or increased pain, she would be able to help better than I in this instance. But it is your choice, Your Highness.”

“I shall take it under advisement,” he said, tone indicating that this discussion was done. That was an interesting bit of knowledge and Sebastian filed it in his mind. She had asked him if he was feverish earlier. Not unwell, but specifically feverish. It had struck him as odd when she said it, but she might have been remarking on his warmth as well, it had been when she’d taken his arm.

Godfrey was escorted out by another of his soldiers, and Sebastian was pointed in the direction to find Fenris and Melissa. They were, unexpectedly, getting along as he came upon them in the kitchen. The kitchen had a door for deliveries near the front and one around the rear that led to the kitchen garden. It was a very large kitchen with a woodstove and a fireplace, filled with counters and tables, and all sorts of crockery. Copper pans hung on neat rows of hooks in the wall, and the curved brick ceiling was whitewashed and clean. The counters and tables were butcher block wood, heavily used and marked with scars but also oiled and clean. It was the type of place where Sebastian would have loved to come as a child, even now the scent of food lingered in the air as came to sit at the table next to his wife.

“Is all well?” Fenris asked, and Sebastian nodded without explanation. “Her Highness was just briefing me on the staff here, and who comes in for deliveries on which days.”

“It’s generally the same people. A new face now would be cause for concern,” she said, and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. She grinned behind her hand as Sebastian smiled at her, and then looked back at Fenris. “It is getting quite late. Prince Sebastian, you didn’t have the benefit of dinner. I asked the cook to leave something aside for you, and it should be in the cold storage.”

“Did you eat?” he asked Fenris, and was surprised when Fenris nodded back at him.

“Yes, Your Highness, we were fed. I ate after you woke up.”

“Sneaking off without me again. I see how it is,” he said, smiling easily at Fenris. He was hungry, but once he ate he was going to need to sleep.

Maker, he was exhausted, despite his unexpected nap earlier. If he went too far, got too tired, he would trigger an attack from his unfortunate condition. He needed to talk to Melissa before he fell asleep tonight, and they needed to sort out their sleeping arrangement. As nice as it would have been to come home and fall into an intimate relationship, it wasn’t realistic after their hasty wedding and his extended time away. He simply needed to understand what she wanted.

“Fenris, can you give us some time?” he asked, and Fenris nodded once more.

“Of course. There are many things I should attend. Prince Sebastian, Princess Melissa,” he said and then strode out of the kitchen.

“He is quite interesting, Your Highness,” Melissa said, looking after where Fenris had vanished through the door. “It is rare that a Tevinter fights their own. It must be an intriguing story how he wound up in your service.”

“Did Fenris tell you he was Tevinter?”

“No, I could hear it in his accent. It felt rude to ask.” She disappeared and came back with his plate, setting it in front of him and then going off to find a fork. He took his own knife from his belt and started cutting the meat, pairing it with torn off chunks of bread. When she put that down she sat back on the bench, sliding back into her spot next to him.

“What did you want to speak to me about? You look pensive,” she inquired, giving him a once over before she pulled an apple out of her pocket and began to cut it into slices with her own knife.

Once again he marveled at how perceptive she was. There was much she saw, but Melissa seemed to speak little. He wondered about her life here in this lonely castle and small village, and hoped that she might have a friend or a confidant of some kind. War was never a fantastic way to pass the time, but he had his men and Fenris, and the purpose they’d had on the battlefield. She’d simply been here, waiting for him and being fed lies by his parent. Sebastian’s mood darkened when he thought of his parents, and then he was filled with guilt at the surge of anger. They were gone, and his anger, justified though it may be, would only poison him if he nursed it.

“I’d like to make sure you’re safe tonight, and not far from me. Are there adjoining rooms for the master and mistress of the castle?” he asked. Her apple was cut into pieces and she separated the slices into equal stacks and then put one on his plate. Sebastian was surprised by the action but muttered his thanks to her.

“There are, but I store things in the other bedroom; I’ve been using it as my private withdrawing room. My room is sufficiently large and unless you snore very loud, I think we can both be comfortable there. There is no other bed, but my settee is long enough for you. Or you can have the bed, if you like. I suppose I could take the settee, I’ve fallen asleep enough times reading on it,” she went on, rambling nervously and wringing her hands. He put one of his hands over hers to stop her.

“The settee is fine. I can sleep anywhere. I just want you to feel safe tonight.”

“You’re back with me. I never quite thought this day would come, if I’m honest. I don’t know what it is to have a husband. I’m sure I’m going to fuck this up, but I’m glad you’re here, Sebastian.”

He huffed out a laugh at her unexpected vulgarity, and squeezed her hands with his. “You can’t fuck it up more than my parents tried to do. I think we can just go on from here, if you’re willing.”

She looked away, and he took his hand off hers and continued to eat. She ate the slices of her apple, the pieces disappearing while he worked on his own plate. The food was good, a cold repast was hardly going to be the best meal in the house but Sebastian hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He ate the smoked fish, bread, cheese and Melissa’s shared apple speedily, sneaking looks at Melissa when he could, unable to stop himself from gorging on either. For all he that he’d only had one night to know her, he’d missed his wife. He missed the woman he thought he’d gotten to know through letters, but it was easy to dismiss that fakery, the person next to him was far more compelling than the one on paper.

“We should get some rest. I feel like I can’t give you a coherent answer right now,” she said, getting up. He was nearly done anyway, so Sebastian finished and stood up too, and she took his dirty plate into the sink, where it would be washed with the breakfast dishes. When Melissa started to put out the lights and pick up the lantern, he followed her back into the main castle and up towards her bedroom.

It was strange that he had the same fizzy, giddy sense of anticipation for sleeping on her settee as he’d had on their wedding day, but he felt it, building in his chest like a drumbeat. He wondered what it would be like, how they would handle the logistics of undressing, or what would happen if one of his battlefield nightmares woke him up drenched in sweat. The malmagica could set on him, first the fever and fatigue triggered by his lack of sleep and their hasty ride here. Would she take care of him? He would lay odds on that Melissa would spend the whole night nursing him she had to, and that assurance quieted all of his silly questions about undressing and nightmares. They would deal with it together, for the first time. She didn’t even take his arm as she had before, but he somehow felt closer to her as they walked side by side, moving through the halls they’d just secured and got ready for their first real night together.

Maker how he wished they’d gotten that one night, but they were no sooner to her room than Fenris was there.

“We have to leave, now. The gate guard’s gone missing” he said, giving them the grim news as quickly as possible.

And with that statement, their night and their whole lives were thrown into chaos once more.


	4. Ginger root

The traps they’d had her set were to delay people coming after them. She’d thought they were for their protection -- hers and Prince Sebastian’s -- but they were merely a stalling tactic. They’d known that this place wouldn’t remain safe, she could tell by the way Sebastian swore after Fenris gave him the news. His answering _“Damnation”_ had been all frustration and not heated surprise. She could tell he knew that they were still coming and had only hoped to outrun them for the moment.

She wasn’t sure what to make of her husband, to be honest. He was here ostensibly to protect her, and Melissa felt like he did want to do that, but he’d also put her in more danger by coming to her rescue. From his abrupt entrance this afternoon until their quiet dinner together, Melissa was keenly aware that Sebastian was now going to be a real part of her life and not just a name on a letter she was writing. Part of her was thrilled; this handsome man was hers again and they could be together, but there was the other side of it. Terrible lies had been told to keep them apart, and while Sebastian said he wasn’t aware, she couldn’t be sure. Why had his parents, who’d instigated their marriage, then contrived to keep them apart? What was there to be gained by it?

There weren’t to be any answers for her tonight, not as she rushed through the home she’d just been securing, trying to remember everything she’d need to take with her on an extended trip away. Melissa had her few servants awake and scurrying back and forth as Fenris readied the carriage. The royal carriage that Sebastian arrived in, while more comfortable, needed repairs after their punishing journey to Lothian, so that left them with her smaller conveyance for their getaway. A smaller carriage meant they had to take less with them, so she was only packing essentials, and Melissa was ranking items in her mind as she quickly folded them into her nearly new valise; it had been part of the set she was given upon her marriage. Once she settled into Lothian, she’d only taken short trips to Ferelden, and could count the number of times she used her bags on both hands.

Soon enough they were trundling off in her carriage, leaving his behind at Lothian Castle, but no one told her where they were going. In the darkness of night, she couldn’t see which way they set out on the road, and was too tired and scared to pay much attention even if it had been midday. Sebastian sat with his arm around her, cradling and protecting her as he never had before. They’d left so hastily that there was nothing save his unpacked bags from before, including a very prominent bag of medicines, and the things she was able to throw together. Melissa made sure to take her own satchel of herbs and remedies, but she would miss her garden. She had her armor and arms, and Sebastian had his, but she would feel much better if she’d been able to put her armor on. After this, she was going to wear it everywhere, even at home, if she ever got to return.

The rutted road was bumpy and uncomfortable, though she’d just had it filled in this year. The constant maintenance of these roads could make anyone responsible for them cry, and she tried to fill her mind was logical, logistical things instead of letting panic take over. She must look into pavers for this road when she had the funds, however she was glad for their present absence. Pavers would make the clip-clop of the hooves echo against them, but the packed dirt almost muffled the sound of their escape. She felt Sebastian trying to keep himself steady over the rough road, but even he wasn’t strong enough to stay motionless.

“You can sleep if you need to,” Sebastian offered. “I make a good pillow.”

“I couldn’t, not yet. I wanted to give you something,” she said, and reluctantly pulled herself away from his bulk. He _was_ a good pillow. It was difficult to pry herself up, she was more tired than she was admitting, and he did feel so solid and warm underneath her. But that was the problem, he was too warm.

When they’d left in a hurry, he’d been covered in a sheen of perspiration. He was still sweating now, and every once in a while she’d felt a tremor run through him. If she was tired, he would be well beyond exhaustion, and that could make his malmagica worse. She reached into the leather satchel she’d packed and rummages around in it. It was hard to see anything in the darkened interior of the carriage, but she could find what she wanted by touch. When she did, she drew out the root she’d been drying. It wasn’t quite ready yet but he could chew it.

“This is a bit of ginger. I’m sorry I wouldn’t try to cut it while we’re moving so you’ll have to bite it, to get a small piece. It’s not native to Starkhaven, but you’ve traveled and perhaps you’ve tasted it in food. I’m told Rivainis use it quite a bit in their cuisine, but powdered. That’s what I am, or was, intending to do with this root was dry it for powdering. But it’s wonderfully medicinal and can help with a variety of ailments. Anyhow, if you chew a bit of it, it can help settle your fever.”

She felt him stiffen again at the mention of his fever, but he didn’t argue as she handed him the shriveled ginger root. There was no way she could see his face in the darkness, but she felt his hands as he took the ginger root from her, and they told her nothing. It was quiet save for the rapid rhythm of their horses leading them away into the night.

“I just bite a piece off?” he asked, and Melissa breathed a sigh of relief. She’d thought he might get angry with her and throw the precious root away. There was more, but they were leaving it behind at Lothian Castle. She couldn’t very well bring the whole pot with her.

“A small piece. It’s fibrous, well, it’s a root, so you simply chew it, though you can swallow it after a bit of chewing if you prefer that.” She appreciated that he trusted her in this, that he didn’t question her knowledge. His faith unexpectedly warmed her from the inside out.

She felt him take a bite and then he coughed in surprise. Oh, she’d forgotten to tell him it was spicy. There was always something she forgot when talking to people, and Sebastian made her more awkward than normal. It wasn’t like this with her friends, and she wished she’d gotten time to write to them all, but her note to Cook to tell any callers she had gone away on urgent business should suffice. Melissa wondered what Sebastian would make of her friends, the random assortment of people she’d collected from her lives in Ferelden, Kirkwall and around Lothian. Isabela, her best friend fit none of those places, because she was of the sea, though they had first met on the way to Kirkwall. It was Isabela’s boat that had brought Melissa’s family to their ancestral home once more. It would be months before Isabela was ashore again, and perhaps by then Melissa would know more about what was happening. Either she would or she’d be dead, and in that case there would be nothing to tell Isabela, at least not that she need worry about.

He kept chewing, as she let her thoughts spool out in the silence. Normally she wouldn’t have given him anything without testing it first, there were people allergic to herbs and remedies, but there hadn’t been time. While she wasn’t crass enough to bring up his health problems directly, she had intended to speak to him about it when they’d been in the privacy of her room.

There was still so much she wanted to say to him, questions she had to ask but wasn’t sure how to say it. He’d told her he was leaving after the wedding, that he regretted he had to go so soon, but hadn’t said he was a soldier. Why had he misled her? Why hadn’t he just told her the truth? But then, they hadn’t done much talking after the first part of the night. She’d been excited and he’d been charming and handsome and a good kisser. That night hadn’t been her first time in bed with someone, and she’d been informed that his duties would take him elsewhere for a while, but it was important that they marry before he left. Then the morning after he left his mother had come to her, tears in her eyes and thanked Melissa for her kindness to her ailing son.

And that was how the lies started.

Sebastian coughed again into the darkness and this time cleared his throat. Melissa heard him working to swallow the ginger, and then felt his hand reach out for her again. She was startled out of her recollections by his touch.

“Thank you,” he said. “The healer, Godfrey, mentioned you were an apothecary. Is that what you grew in glass house? I saw it once we got in the gates but I didn’t have a chance to explore it.”

“Yes, I grew a great many foreign plants there. I like to see how things work. How long have you been ill? Was any of what your mother told me true?”

The silence between them was heavy, and she felt him shift on the seat next to her. They hadn’t resumed their previous arrangement, with his arms around her, keeping her sheltered against his chest. Melissa found that she rather wished he would hold her again.

“We should compare notes, once we get to someplace safe. Right now, or rather once my eyes stop streaming, I’d like to get some rest,” he said. There was a grin in those words, a charming deflection from whatever she’d just poked at, but Melissa, tired and starting to ache from this rough ride, agreed with him. She put her satchel out of the way under the seat and bumped around until she found her former place against his chest. He was more reclined now, resting against the seat and he pulled her into a comfortable position against him.

There were a hundred more questions she wanted to ask Sebastian. The one that dominated her brain was _“Did I ever cross your mind while you were gone?”_ but she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer while she was stuck in this carriage with him. The answer in her heart was clear, she’d wished and prayed and thought about him often, but there was a deeper aspect. What she wanted to know was if he missed her, and maybe then she could let herself admit how much his absence had hurt her in return. In her mind she knew that she and Sebastian hadn’t know each other well enough to be much more than a one night stand, and yet the expectations of marriage had made them both more and less to each other. He said that he’d thought of her since he’d left, but those pretty words didn’t mean he’d missed her, and it didn’t ensure he wouldn’t leave her again. The thoughts made her head and heart ache as she lay on his chest in the dark.

She was nearly asleep when she couldn’t help but notice his fever was starting to abate, and Melissa smiled to herself. She might have been confused about how she felt about the husband that abandoned her being her pillow tonight, but she would never leave a person in need in pain. If he was feeling better after some rest, then they could actually start getting to some answers.

#

Sebastian woke up with a start and looked out the window. It was near to mid-morning, he could tell by the sun even if it was hiding behind several clouds. Melissa slept on his chest, and he worked not to bother her. She’d been laying like that since they’d made the one stop the night before, at an inn to use the chamber pot and change horses. The patchwork quilt she’d insisted on bringing with them was draped over their legs. It had been a good bit of foresight on her part, keeping them from freezing in the night as they rode on. He must have slept through at least one more change of horses, but not more than that, he could feel them slowing down for their pace over the previous night, tired as they galloped into the warm morning. It wouldn’t be much longer now anyway, they should nearly be there despite all the twists and turns his driver would have made to avoid being followed.

That spicy root she had him eat last night had actually made him feel better, which surprised him. Usually he would wake drenched in sweat after such overexertion, but while he didn’t feel fine, he was much better than he’d expected to be as he came to his senses. He was still far too tired for his own good, but less achy overall, and the fever she’d kept noticing seemed to have diminished. He regretted that they hadn’t been able to spend the night in her rooms at the castle, not just because he wished they had privacy they weren’t likely to find today, but because his back was waking up with a stiffness that always came from not sleeping horizontally. Sebastian had to admit, Melissa had aided his discomfort and managed to do it in the dark in a moving carriage. Godfrey had been right about his wife, she suspected about his ailment and though she wasn’t going to push him for an answer yet, he would have to provide one eventually.

The problem was, now he had to wake her and tell her that they were headed back to Vael Castle. The center of Starkhaven wasn’t his first place to go and hide, but he had no more ideas, no resources and didn’t want her servants to wind up dead because of him. Even if the gate guard at Lothian village was sleeping off his drink, Sebastian hadn’t wanted to take the chance that it could have been an assassin right on his tail, especially when he saw the state of the castle. She’d done well to fix it, but it was still a long way from the type of security their current situation required.

“Sebastian,” Melissa whispered, moving against him in a way that was far too welcome as parts of his anatomy woke up to greet her softness. “Oh, Maker, we’re still on the road. It’s been all night. Where are we headed?”

“I didn’t know where else to bring you to find answers,” he started, but she cut him off.

“So we’re going back to Vael Castle? I agree we might find things there, but we can’t just walk into the place where your family was assassinated. We need people to secure it, the rest of my soldiers to follow us, loyal royal guards, something, someone, some army. What are we going to do?” He could hear the worry in her voice, and she pushed off of him so she could twist around to face him.

“Calm yourself, sweet. I promised to keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“You did, but this is about making sure you’re safe too. We need protection and help.”

“I can arrange it, but I don’t have any place to go. I suppose we could stop at the inn outside Starkhaven center,” he said, but she shook her head. She’d gotten up fully now, her sleep warm body withdrawing from his and leaving a void. Her hair was askew, almost pulled fully from the knot she wore at the base of her neck. Melissa looked charming, like a pretty little nymph awakened from a slumber and ready to grant him a wish. If only she could grant wishes; he suspected the thing she’d wished for over the past few years had closely mirrored his own despite their distance.

“Let me send a letter to a friend of mine. If I am right, we can stay within confines of the Merchant’s Guild while we’re here. I know someone who can help, and better, he can us in touch with just about anyone covertly.”

“Who is this man?” Sebastian asked, jealousy creeping into his throat to make his voice a little gruffer as he did.

“Varric Tethras. He used to be based out of Kirkwall but came here two years ago. I actually think he came because his brother Bartrand died and he couldn’t stand to be there anymore, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s because he had to keep an eye on his investments, one of which is me.”

“You’re an investment of his? How did that work out?” Sebastian asked drily. It was early in his relationship with this dwarf, but he was mightily inclined towards disliking a man that thought of his wife as an _investment_.

“Only insofar as the fact that he helped me get out of debt when we came from Ferelden. I had business dealing with Varric and his brother Bartrand. My uncle hadn’t kept the family name as spotless as my mother would have liked, and we came from Ferelden in a rush. I needed to work to get the money we needed,” she explained and then added with a small smile, “It’s because of him you own a beet farm in Rivain, or at least an interest in it; that was part of the dowry I brought to our marriage.”

“I never knew that,” Sebastian answered and was upset that he hadn’t. Well, he wasn’t upset about the beet farm, he didn’t really care about that. No one had bothered to tell him much about her past, or really anything about her family before they got married. His parents mustn’t have deemed it necessary, but he wanted to know; Sebastian wanted to know everything about Melissa. On their wedding night, she mentioned Ferelden and their customs, and they’d talked about her family and his, but he hadn’t thought to ask her anything else. “Why did you leave Ferelden?”

“It was time,” she said simply and then moved to look out the carriage window, pushing the curtain back. “We are nearly there. If we’re going to plan our moves before we go barrelling into the city, this is the time.”

She kept her gaze carefully away from his as they got ready to get out of the carriage. He noticed that she avoided his eyes, and realized that he wasn’t the only person keeping secrets. That was fine, they were just newly re-acquainted, and he felt the caution was understandable on both sides. It would have been strange and a little disconcerting to come back and be greeted with open arms, to have her instantly make him assume the role of husband when they were still strangers to one another. Sebastian bit his bottom lip as he thought, Melissa in the corner of his vision as he thought over their relationship. He hoped that their estranged status would change, but knew he’d have to trust her a little to get her to open up and help him. Last night he hadn’t been up to answering her questions directly, but he would in time.

It was Lucian that checked them into the inn and then let Sebastian and Melissa in through the delivery entrance around the back. It was better than walking through the taproom for all to see the Prince and Princess of Starkhaven about to take up lodging in a tavern. Over the past week he’d thought about his new title and responsibilities many times, but Maker, it was daunting to think he was now to sit on his father’s throne. As the third son, he had never expected to get anything but further from the throne, not closer, but here he was.

Lucian opened a back door for them, and they were spared any staring, though the barman did come to see who was demanding such discretion. Melissa, cannier than he realized she was, covered her head modestly with a scarf and kept her face down to keep from being identified. His regulation cap for his uniform didn’t provide such a good disguise, but he didn’t think he was recognized. They were led to the largest room, one that spanned the entire top floor and had its own bath, though water still had to be brought up from the outside. Melissa sat down immediately to write her letter and Sebastian stripped off his grubby garments and was brought water for his bath. Maker, it had been a very long week. Every part of him was aching and his eyes burned for their all too brief contact with the morning sunlight.

As he sat in the water, listening to the scratch of his wife’s quill against the paper in the next room he wondered if this wasn’t a mistake. He could have stayed at Lothian, it was the southernmost part of Starkhaven, but still a royal castle within the boundaries. Lothian Castle protected Starkhaven’s farms and outlying lands, though it was less strategically important now that the Free Marches were at peace with itself and its neighbors. They could have set up there until his investiture and been more comfortable. He might have done so, if she hadn’t told him what his mother did after their wedding. There were answers to be found, assassins to deal with and a marriage to save, and Sebastian knew he had to be right where his family died to have a chance at accomplishing anything at all. He sank low into the warm water and let it cover his head.

There were so many answers that he needed to find. Foremost was why his parents had arranged a marriage for him that they didn’t intend for him to actually be part of? Why were they lied to and kept apart? If Sebastian knew his family, he knew his brothers were neck deep in whatever plans his parents had been devising. The Vaels, for all their finery and titles, were a pack of ambitious mercenaries at heart and he should have known there was some scheme brewing when he was kept away from home for so long. He hoped his wife still liked him after they’d found what they were searching for, but Maker knows what kinds of worms they’d uncover searching beneath the rocks his parents buried. Sebastian couldn’t control what they found, but he didn’t want to lose Melissa again. Second chances were rare, as he well knew, and he intended to make this one work.

Sebastian broke the surface of the water, rivulets running in streams down his face as he drew in a breath just in time to hear Melissa call out to him.

“Don’t fall asleep in there! I’m expecting an answer within a few hours.”

“I’m nearly finished,” he yelled back. First her herbal remedy last night, and now this. Someone might think his wife actually cared for him if they didn’t know their situation. Sebastian smiled to himself; for all that he really knew nothing about it, he had missed being married.


	5. Crate and Varric

“There is an elven woman at the back door, Princess Melissa,” Fenris informed her not an hour after she’d sent her note to Varric.

Melissa hadn’t bathed after Sebastian but had waited, nervously, for an answer to her letter. He was laying on the bed in a doze, but she couldn’t sleep or even settle down. Pacing was too common, Mother would have never allowed her to do it, and this room wasn’t big enough for it to be done properly, so she’d taken to writing out lists on the stationery she’d tucked into her bag the night before. Lists of what she would need and want, lists of things for her to check on and remember, questions she should ask about protocol and their situation. Melissa liked lists; they calmed her mind when she was too anxious for her own good.

The last list she’d written down were provisions she’d need to appear in public, but she’d been making a very different list in her mind when Fenris announced someone was here for her. At first she was pleased that a response had come and interrupted her list “Reasons why the Vael Family were killed”, because that list was making her highly suspicious and more than a little maudlin. Melissa was less pleased when she heard that it wasn’t Varric or one of his urchin runners asking for her. When she turned to Fenris, it was with narrowed eyes and her generous lips thinned in suspicion.

“Who is this woman? Does she have word from Varric?” she asked, her voice taut.

“She did present a letter, but it had no seal or identifiers of the Merchant’s Guild. It’s a Dalish woman that claimed to know you,” Fenris answered, looking doubtful about the woman’s claim, but it cheered Melissa up to no end, eradicating her grimace immediately.

“Maker’s breath, Merrill’s still here?!” Another bit of relief sliced through her, and Melissa actual felt herself exhale some of her tension. The smile that dawned on her face was merely the tiniest reflection of the relief she felt at her realization. “I thought we might have passed her on the road in the night!” she said, and then clarified for Fenris, “She works for me at Lothian and was expected to come back soon. Fenris, please send her up.”

At her exclamation, Sebastian sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes with two fists, like a child. There was something endearing about seeing him so, his hair mussed with sleep and the green counterpane threaded between his long legs. There was no proper sitting room in this rented lodgings, but a screened off corner of the large room near the front where two chairs and an end table sat. She would hear what Merrill had to say there, and let Sebastian stay in bed if he pleased. She was about to say so when she saw him getting up and putting on his jacket, clearly making himself presentable to entertain.

He’d changed into his uniform when he’d gotten out of the bath, saying that he’d catch less notice dressed as a soldier, but Melissa didn’t think so. Sebastian couldn’t see what a fine figure he cut in his dress blues. He wore the uniform of the Royal Starkhaven Engineering Corps, and Sebastian’s dark blue coat was so decorated that it would have been hard not to notice him. She lamented that he needed to put on more clothes; she’d gotten used to him in just his shirtsleeves, it was how he’d been dressed when he held her during their night carriage ride and she liked seeing him in his informal clothes, but he did cut an impressive figure in his uniform.

In a moment of tenderness, Melissa walked over to help him button his coat. His hands were stiff with lack of sleep and malmagica, and she could see him struggling with the fine dexterity required to push the brass buttons and all the fastenings into the correct places. Sebastian let his hands fall to his sides when she came over and Melissa was careful not to touch anything but the buttons, not the broad chest underneath, though his impressive physique would be a pleasure to feel beneath her fingertips. They were only married in name, but this man had searched for her, came for her when he was scared and grieving and offered her protection. As she finished the last button on his jacket, she looked up at him and found Sebastian watching her intently, as if she were doing something revolutionary by helping him. Though she was no longer touching his jacket, she didn’t take a step back from him.

“Sebastian, how long have you been discharged because of your illness?” she asked in a low voice.

“Four months. I was in the hospital recovering for three of them before they let me make the journey back,” he admitted, still looking down at her. There was no artifice in his beautiful blue eyes, but he kept his voice as quiet as hers had been as he continued, “I came home for you as soon as I could, Melissa.”

“And our son,” she added, making him wince at the mention.

“I’m sorry about that, the way I was acting when I came to Lothian. I know I apologized before, but these last few years I believed we had a child. It’s difficult to reconcile that to a lie.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance for children,” she said, realizing it was true. “Now that I know, well, now that I know how things are, I’m very sorry about it.”

“It’s not your lie to be sorry for,” he said, and looked up at the door. There were people on the stairs, and she stepped away from him to see to the guests that were ascending to their room.

“Hawke,” Merrill said as she stepped into the room. Merrill was her old friend and retainer; they’d come to Kirkwall at the same time and had formed a friendship as two people hurled into lives vastly different than what they’d imagined for themselves. It was Merrill that taught her about plants, though Melissa had known some few things from her childhood in Ferelden, elven knowledge was much more comprehensive. “Thank the Creators I was still with Varric when your letter arrived.” Merrill folded her into a fierce hug, hanging onto her hand even after they’d stepped out of the embrace.

“Merrill, it’s so good to see you! I thought I might have missed you. I left a letter with Cook just in case you or Isabela came back before I could return.”

“I was trying to get back before you went to Bethany. Is it true you’re in hiding now? Oh, you must be Hawke’s husband!” she exclaimed, looking from Melissa to where Sebastian hung back, watching the scene. At Merrill’s words, he stepped forward as if he were beckoned to Melissa’s side, and she made the introduction as she ignored the feeling the fluttered through her at the nearness of him.

“Yes, this is my husband, Prince Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Merrill, my maid and friend. What did Varric say, Merrill?”

“He looks just like the painting of him you have hanging up!” Merrill gushed, looking back and forth between Melissa and Sebastian. Merrill knew far too much about how Melissa felt about Sebastian and had no talent for being circumspect. “But I thought your husband was ill?”

“You have my picture up?” he asked, sending her an amused look. She felt the color rushing to her face and never had she been so glad that she wasn’t pale enough to blush. Melissa hurriedly looked away from him and turned back to Merrill, who was still holding her hand.

“Yes, I thought it proper to display your portrait. Merrill, what did Varric say?” she asked again, ignoring both Merrill’s question and the satisfied smile that played about Sebastian’s soft mouth.

“He said that he was surprised to hear from you considering he’d just got word that you’d left Lothian this morning, and that he could accommodate you with whatever you needed. Here, he wrote back to you.” She handed Melissa a letter that was sealed with wax, though it bore no special imprint. Varric hated using anything official, including but not limited to his own sigil. Melissa took her hand from Merrill’s when she got the letter, needing both to open it.

“I’m sorry about your clan, Your Highness,” Merrill said. “I lost my clan as well. Not in the same way, but I imagine it hurts the same.”

“My clan? You mean my family? Thank you, Merrill, but I assure you I’m not broken up about it. It’s you that have my condolences about your clan. Mine, well, they were my clan in name only, and as I am still here and Princess Melissa is with me, I consider myself most fortunate.”

Merrill didn’t seem sure what to make of Sebastian’s statement, but Melissa was engrossed in the letter from Varric. Varric gave her a rundown of what was happening around town; he’d seen Sebastian at the Chantry and couldn’t believe his eyes after all the stories of illness and madness his mother had told Melissa. His latest letter to her had included an update about her husband and his family, but she hadn’t gotten it before Sebastian showed up at her doorstep. For a moment there was silence all around, the noise in the room was ambient from the people around them, floating up from the floors below. Sebastian cleared his throat as Merrill’s scrutiny of him became too intense, but Melissa was still reading and couldn’t bridge the gap of conversation between them. Sebastian was left standing there awkwardly and filled the silence with a question to Merrill.

“Where does she keep my portrait?” he asked, giving Merrill a sly smile.

Melissa looked up from the letter to watch as Merrill blinked and then returned the smile, trying to parse if Sebastian was saying just what he meant. The subtleties and rules of conversation between city folks, especially humans, still flummoxed Merrill from time to time. The Dalish had their own standards and social norms and while among them, Merrill had been at the top of their hierarchy -- she hadn’t need to rely on subtlety to get what she wanted -- so she never cultivated a sense for it.

“It’s hanging in the room where she keeps her favorite books and her lute. It’s right over the fireplace. The one adjoining her chambers. Wait, that was supposed to be your room, wasn’t it?” Merrill asked, eyes wide.

“She plays the lute?” Sebastian asked, grin wider now.

“Poorly,” Merrill replied in a deceptively sweet voice, “she used to make the dogs howl.” Sebastian’s laugh was loud and warm, filling the room. Part of her was annoyed at this, they were scared, tired and on the run, and didn’t have time for this playful banter or whatever it was they were doing. A larger part of her, the part that won out, craved these sorts of moments. She’d wanted family and friends, her husband at her side and the kind of camaraderie that fostered deep confidences and easy laughter, the kind of relationships that would make Sebastian’s lingering chuckle be more commonplace.

“Merrill,” Melissa said, and sighed. “Prince Sebastian knows he was missed. It isn’t important right now; we need to focus. How are we to get to Varric’s? It’s all fine and well that he’s agreed to host us in secret, but how are we get from here to there without anyone noticing?”

“I believe I can answer that, Your Highness,” Fenris said from the doorway. She’d forgotten that he hadn’t left the room, but had been standing silent sentinel, watching Merrill for any signs that she intended harm. Merrill was a strong mage, but she had the feeling that Fenris was made to fight magic, if she was to hazard a guess by the lyrium etched into his body like vallasin. “He means for you to come as a delivery. There are several crates on the cart that your maid came on. They’re all very large and empty.”

“Splinters in my arse again,” Sebastian sighed, and Fenris actually gave him a smile that lit his emerald eyes with a mirth that made him look young despite his shock of white hair. There was a story there, and one she’d have to remember to ask about. “You need to check first. Incognito. Send Lucian up here if he’s awake, and take Lady Merrill with you. She’s more familiar with the area. Also, check in with the Chantry and see when the services for my family was held, so we know what kind of mood we’re dealing with.”

“Hawke, do you need anything before I go?” Merrill asked, turning to her. They weren’t the type to stand on ceremony; Merrill owed her no fealty, and Melissa didn’t demand it. It was an offer between friends, and Melissa, overtired and sore could only shake her head.

“I need a change of clothing and perhaps some rest, if not more food,” Melissa said. “We didn’t sleep much on the road last night. My letter to Varric had what we needed once we get there, and I’m sure it’s all within his power to provide.”

“But it only takes five hours to get from Lothian to here,” Merrill started, but Sebastian cut her off.

“We had to make sure we weren’t followed,” he said, “And I think we bought ourselves some time by making it seem as if we were heading for sanctuary in Cumberland.”

“Kirkwall would have made more sense, because my family is still there,” Melissa pointed out, but Sebastian shook his head.

“That’s exactly why we couldn’t go there. I hadn’t wanted to head to Kirkwall, not even as a feint, just in case someone thought we were going to see your family and it put them in danger,” he explained. “I cannot let harm come to them as it did my family, not even to keep us safe.”

Oh. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so Melissa simply nodded. There was a lump in her throat that made it hard to speak, but she was so touched by his thoughtfulness. This situation was all new to her, but he’d been dealing with it for at least a week, and had thought not just about her safety but that of her family. He said it as if it were a small thing, but savings lives was never inconsequential.

“Thank you,” Melissa finally managed, her voice quiet. Sebastian nodded back at her and started giving orders to Fenris and his requests to Merrill. The commander in him was evident, she could hear the tenor of his voice change as he gave orders. As Sebastian made sure their plans could be executed properly, he stood next to her with a hand on the small of her back. Melissa’s exhaustion was getting the better of her; she stopped listening as Sebastian took over, certain that he would see to everything now that she’d contacted Varric. This was his home, and he was more familiar with what their next steps should be than Melissa, the outsider from Ferelden, would ever be.

Despite the fact that Fenris and Merrill were there with them, Melissa felt like it was just her and Sebastian alone in that room. She wished he would kiss her, just to acknowledge the deep attraction that had always lay between them. It was stronger now than it had been on their wedding day, because they had this strange affection between the two of them, and neither of them knew quite what to do about it. She could feel the warmth of his hand through her clothes, and though it was a comfort, it also reminded her how dirty she was.

When she’d come to the room she’d bound her hair back up and brushed off her clothes, but a whole day and night in the same dress had made it feel sticky and grubby against her skin. Melissa itched in her filthy day dress, but didn’t move from the contact of his hand pressing it against her skin. Sebastian had bathed when they came in and smelled like the peppermint soap he’d used, the scent of it especially heavy around his jaw where he’d used the lather to shave. Melissa looked up at his smooth chin, fighting the urge to stroke it and see just how close his shave was.

The hand at the small of her back confused her more than she wanted to admit. Though she wanted to kiss him, these last three years had left an imprint on Melissa and she was wary of the tenderness she felt towards her husband. The years between their wedding and now had been long and lonely and she’d labored under a lie, thinking him incurably ill. That he was here now, just as she recalled him and relatively healthy almost felt like a betrayal. Everything she’d done in the past few years had been to help him, the man she thought was ill and might come home needing her constant care. This man radiated power; he didn’t need her, and it rankled that she’d been so fooled.

Sebastian dismissed both Merrill and Fenris with a final nod, and Merrill came over to hug her goodbye. He took his hand away from her lower back, going towards the desk to write his a missive of his own. Sebastian took up the seat she’d been in since they’d come to the inn, and started making a neat pile for all of her assorted lists. He looked back at her after a minute spent organizing, mistaking her quiet panic for fatigue.

“Don’t worry, Melissa, I’ll take care this,” Sebastian said, his words echoing her earlier thoughts. “You can rest now if you’d like, or the bath is probably still warm.”

His offer, made with a kindly smile before he turned his back on her to focus on his writing, made Melissa even more confused. Who was her husband and why did he flummox her so? His solicitousness felt strange, and even a little uncomfortable to her, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It must have been her debilitating fatigue clouding her mind, because there was no real reason why her husband, who was both prince and from the rank on his coat, a major in the Sappers, should make her feel so unsteady with his gentle care and guidance.

She needed to get to Varric’s soon, just so she could feel safe enough to rest. Melissa knew that even after a bath and a meal, she wouldn’t be able to sleep in this room. There would be no respite here, not with just her and Sebastian and the guards around, waiting. The lone comfort she had that didn’t come with a confusing bundle of conflicting emotions was Merrill’s hug before she departed with Fenris in tow.

#

It was an uncomfortable ride to Varric’s manor simply because it wasn’t far, and Sebastian stifled a groan inside of his wooden prison. On a road, they would have gained a rhythm and been on a horse-drawn cart, but here in the city, going from one nearby place to another, they were pushed on a wagon with deformed wheels and an open back gate. Anyone would have been uncomfortable housed in a crate, even one lined with blankets as their were, but it was also warm trending towards hot that day and Sebastian wasn’t a small man.

The crate felt too tight and hot and dark, and it made him want to scream. It was too like that time in Par Vollen, when the fog was thick and he’d fallen into that pit, sitting there helpless at the bottom on his broken leg. Was his leg broken underneath him now? He had to wiggle it a little to make sure, and then he still didn’t believe his senses. Rain on the wind, he could smell it in the humidity, under the putrid stench left by the acid flasks that had been thrown earlier, eating away clothing, foliage and the top layer of skin all at once.

 _Stop that_ , he had to remind himself, the words stern in his own mind. _You’re not in Par Vollen, this is Starkhaven. Get it together._ That was one of the times he’d been injured on the front, and somehow falling into that covered pit had been scarier than accidentally running face first into that armed magister and her slave soldiers while he’d been trying to figure out logistics in the wilds of the disputed Antiva/Tevinter border near the Hundred Pillars. That was when he’d gotten stabbed in the leg, but he’d managed to take down the magister first before she could set him on fire.

He had to get out of the war, so he focused on breathing. Deep breath in, and a longer exhalation, just the way they’d learned to calm themselves. _Never let them see you sweat._ When Sebastian let himself become quiet, he realized that his wife was panicking too. They weren’t supposed to talk since they were cargo after all, but he could hear her muffled imprecations as she was bounced around in a crate nearby his. Her swearing was colorful; Melissa had a mouth like a sailor, and Sebastian couldn’t wait to kiss it again.

He’d been thinking about it since he’d come to her study in the tower, before they started to bunk down for the night at Lothian. She'd missed him, at least she'd told Merrill that and it had made his heart jump for joy when she admitted that his portrait hung in her private quarters. A kiss wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but if he'd known that last night he wouldn't have been so eager to leave. They might have even gotten that far, a goodnight kiss or one in the morning, if they hadn’t fled. He still was unsure about that action, prudent though it had been, he worried that he was overreacting. The gate guard could have fallen ill, or been out drinking or just lazy, but Sebastian misliked coincidences. His mind had been thinking about the unlikeliness of this whole situation since he’d come home and been the one to find his family and all of their live-in retainers dead.

The only reason he hadn’t been arrested for suspicion to incite treason was the testimony of the templars and knights that accompanied him home and that of the army healers, who affirmed that he was in no way able to plan a coup, given the scope and remoteness of his duties for the past three years, and the fact that for the months prior to his return home he’d been in their ward with recurrent attacks of malmagica.

Maker, he was going to have to tell Melissa about that soon. She’d seen his symptoms, but furthermore, his wife was not stupid. That was likely the easiest thing he had to tell her, since she seemed to already have a good guess about his illness. There was so much he needed to talk with her about, not the least of which was why no one suspected him of being behind these attacks. She would ask when she got a moment to think about it, why no one suspected him. The easy answer was that there was someone trying to kill him, which his guards had fought off, but that wasn’t a complete answer. Andraste knows that people had hired mercenaries to “attempt” to assassinate them before, in order to seem valiant or sway people to their side. But he hadn’t, and this coup that murdered his entire family was entirely too real and deadly.

There was really no way he was behind it, and the Grand Cleric had accepted that as truth, entered it into the Chantry histories and pledged in front of the magistrate of law his father had appointed that Prince Sebastian was absolved of all involvement. It was still yet to be seen if he was fit enough to take up his father’s throne, and of course, they needed to stop the real hands behind this murderous coup attempt. The way Sebastian figured it, if he could find the people involved, even just a few of them, he could secure his throne.

The wagon they’d been on came to a stop, and Sebastian’s crate was hefted out of the bed with a grunt. He felt the uncomfortable jolting of being carried downstairs, and then light stopped leaking into his crate through the slats, and he started to relax. This would soon be over. When he was sat down, the top of his crate started to lift up and revealed that they were once again inside. The ceiling of the house was unfamiliar but decidedly dwarven, it bore the rectangular shape of all of their artwork and carvings, with carved stone featured prominently where humans would have built with wood or brick. He poked his head up cautiously, only to find both Melissa and Fenris standing already, Melissa brushing down her dress while still swearing, and Fenris’s gaze fixed on a point.

Not a point, a person. A beardless dwarf was standing nearby, watching them all be unloaded like cargo. Maker, he looked like Kirkwall. He was dressed like a dockside dandy, all silk shirts under leather dusters, gold chains and plenty of rings. He was handsome in his way, but striking because he looked so little like a traditional dwarf, and more like a man that was trying to be noticed. Varric Tethras wanted to look like an idle rich man, the kind that would be noticed for all the wrong reasons.

This dwarf was dangerous, Sebastian realized. The thought remained as the man gave them a genial smile and strolled over to Melissa.

“Hawke,” he said, giving her a hug in greeting. “You’re the best package I’ve gotten in a while.”

“Varric, I’ve never needed you more,” she replied, and Sebastian’s annoyance, already kindled by both Merrill and Varric calling her by her unmarried name, roared into a conflagration at hearing her admission. “Prince Sebastian and I need allies,” she clarified.

“Your Highness, welcome. Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said, giving Sebastian a little bow. “You two look pretty good for dead people.”

“What?!” both Sebastian and Melissa asked at the same time.

“Haven’t you heard? Ever since Sebastian ran off, presumably to get you, Hawke, there’s been nothing but rumors about how he’s been killed by assassins, and his wife too. Doomsday, end of the Vael line and all of that,” he said, grimacing as he waved a hand at them. Varric was more relieved to see her than he was letting on, and Sebastian could see it now, the way he watched Melissa, and the genial suspicion in his eyes when he looked at Sebastian. Varric was still talking and Sebastian made himself pay attention. “No one here thinks any of the royal family live except for the man about to be crowned prince, Goran Vael.”

“My cousin Goran?” Sebastian asked, stupefied. “What about all the work I did at the Chantry when I got back, the memorials I had them hold for my family?”

“He showed up, declared himself prince and gave you three days to make a counterclaim. You’re on day two right now.”

“Let’s see Goran tell people I’m dead when I walk through the damned market square,” Sebastian said, the words a near growl ground out through his gritted teeth. “I need to redress in my uniform,” he said to Fenris. He’d taken it off in favor of more breathable clothes when he knew he’d be traveling by crate, but all of their things had been delivered in the cargo boxes with them.

Melissa put a hand on his wrist, and the touch of her cool hand startled him. It was the first time she’d touched him of her own accord, not because he’d initiated it or because they were say, stuck in a carriage together overnight. They’d held hands at dinner the night before, but this was different. Just an hour or so ago, she’d avoided touching him while helping him button his jacket, but now she was willingly touching him. She put herself in his way, as if this mere slip of a woman could have stopped him if he’d wanted to storm out. Perhaps she knew better than he did, because she probably could have.

“No. That’s just what he would want you to do if he had assassins looking for you. Varric, do you know any of the Mothers? Would they come see us? Think you can get them to answer your urgent and secret messages?”

Sebastian let touch on his wrist slide into her holding his hand, the two of them united as she turned back to Varric. Varric cocked his head to the side, as if thoughtful, but nodded at her. “I can manage better than that. I can get the Knight-Commander. He owes me a favor, and is less likely to be swayed by Goran Vael’s claims. He’s living in the Chantry while awaiting word from you.”

“Fuck,” Sebastian swore loudly, angry with himself for being rash and not seeing the whole picture. What would have happened if he’d stayed at Lothian, like he’d planned to do? The niggling doubt he’d had in the crate, that the gate guard had simply been lazy was gone. This was no mere coincidence.

“Not today, but maybe later if you’re lucky,” Melissa returned, her voice low and sweet as warm honey to his ears. They all heard her, because Merrill grinned and Fenris snorted, and Varric gave her a very questioning look. Sebastian belatedly let out a gruff laugh to hide his shock at his wife’s flirtation. Heat zipped down his back at her words, and looked in her eyes to see if she meant it. Melissa gave nothing away at his glance, but her hand didn’t stray from his wrist either.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave her a cautious smile as he said it, unsure if she was just making a joke or if he might be able to hope for a closer relationship. She was confused about their marriage, he understood that, but if she was flirting with him, maybe her feelings about him were clearer.

“I’m almost afraid to show you to the guest room now,” Varric said, still giving Melissa a quizzical look, “But you’ll need to get yourselves together before the Knight-Commander gets here. I’ll send for a scribe as well, one from the guilds so we can have the meeting recorded properly.” He turned to Sebastian and said, “I hope you’re ready to fight, Your Highness.”

“I am, for everything,” Sebastian said resolutely, his gaze on Melissa. He looked back to Varric and added, “And I’m grateful for your help. I won’t forget it.”

“Give me a statue when you’re prince, one of the nice ones near the Chantry. In gold, but make sure it’s tasteful,” Varric said, giving him a grin. “Oh, Hawke, the tailors will be here this evening to make the clothes you requested. I had them start pulling appropriate fabrics and getting extra seamstresses, so you should have something to wear for tomorrow at the very least.”

“And I bought you new um, undergarments, as well as finding you a proper hat for the Chantry. It’s from Isabela’s favorite hat shop in the whole Free Marches,” Merrill added, looking pleased with herself. “Come on, I’ll help you get settled.”

“Isabela says that about every hat shop, Merrill.”

Sebastian felt her let go of his hand after a squeeze, and she followed behind Varric, walking with Merrill as they continued to talk. He overheard mention of mourning clothes and his attention wandered from listening to Melissa to watching her backside as she walked ahead of him. Fenris came up next to him, striding at his side through thick, stone hallways that were lined with paintings and murals alike. Whatever Varric was pretending to be with his dress, there was no mistaking he was a very rich man.

“I can’t say I thought to buy you new drawers,” Fenris said, chuckling, “But I did scout out the palace. It’s surrounded by templars and city guard. No one is allowed access at all, since there were murders there.”

“No way in then, not without being seen.”

“Not for you or Goran, which is the only benefit,” Fenris said. “Though unofficially, you might be able to get back in during the night. When we were there before, it was a crime scene, and you were too shocked to process it. Now you might find something of interest, if you were of a mind to take the risk.”

Sebastian grinned at Fenris, but said nothing as they walked on. He forced his mind to focus on the prospect of sneaking into the castle, not the way he’d found it when he first came back. But Fenris was right, there had to be something there that could aid them in finding answers, though which questions they would answer, Sebastian couldn’t be certain. Tonight would be another sleepless night if he were to break into Vael Castle and go hunting.


	6. Bumpy Reconciliation

Alone in the room with her husband again, Melissa was suddenly at a loss for words. The wheels that they had worked to put in motion since arriving at the inn were suddenly spinning without her efforts, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. At least now, here with Varric's many guards and "people" around, she could be certain they were safe. Their guest room was beautiful, the room itself was large and well-appointed, though she noticed that they were once more confronted with only one bed. Melissa set to taking out her clothes and supplies while Sebastian got ready for his meeting with the Knight-Commander. He sank down in a nearby chair to take off his boots, surprised to find that it was a delicate Orlesian style with a soft feather pillow atop the seat instead of the more robust dwarven stone he was expecting.

“He’s not much for the comforts of Orzammar,” Melissa said, correctly interpreting Sebastian’s bemused look. “Varric was born topside, and inherited the house from his brother, who was very much a man of his culture. Aside from the house and the items he saw fit to keep from Bartrand’s time, there’s little that’s dwarven here.”

“You’ve been here before?” Sebastian asked, and though he meant his query to be friendly, it came out oddly strained to her ears.

“I have, but Varric doesn’t live here, he’s probably only here because we are. He’s generally at the tavern he owns, The Fat Damsel. Ah, I take it you know it.”

“Far too well,” he admitted and laughed. “But I thought he’d just arrived in Starkhaven two years ago? The Damsel’s been around longer for ages.”

Melissa yawned behind a delicate hand before she answered, “He did, but when he showed up it was under the auspices of buying that bar. Then he never went back to Kirkwall.”

“Would you like to finally sleep?” he asked, and Melissa could only nod as a reply because she was already taken with another huge yawn. “I slept at the inn, and Varric said he was expecting the Knight-Commander to respond to him sooner rather than later, so I can give you some privacy until then.”

“You can stay if you don’t mind me sleeping in my chemise. I realized at the inn I didn’t pack a nightgown.”

Sebastian’s gaze ran over her lasciviously and Melissa felt it as if he’d reached out and caressed her with one of his calloused hands. When they’d briefly held hands earlier she’d felt them, just as she remembered, strong and useful hands, with fingernails blunted by necessity and not out of fashion’s dictates. It startled her to realize she missed his touch, and had for the past three years.

“Why would I mind that? I’d encourage it.”

“I didn’t want to offend, Your Highness.”

“We’re back to Your Highness?” he asked hotly. “Formality to force me from getting close. It’s an old trick.”

“It’s not a trick! We are almost strangers, and I’m not sure what to say to you,” she admitted. It was all a jumble in her overtired mind. “How can you be so certain that you want me after all of this time? I’m not the woman you made up in your head.”

“I know that. I’m trying to get to know you, my very real wife that I’ve hurt, however inadvertently, but we’re also trying to stay alive and regain my throne. We were well suited once before, albeit briefly after our wedding. How can you not believe we are now?”

“We didn’t know each other then or now. We’ve just been thrown together!”

“It didn’t seem to matter to you then! You’d just married a prince and were more than happy to be with me,” Sebastian fired at her, his voice turning into a hiss.

“I wanted to get married! It’s not an uncommon ambition for people of all types. I thought I might have a better life than one of the unwanted spinster in Kirkwall. My sister had suitors lined up through the door, and Carver had any number of people wanting him. I was only desirable to your family because of the connections I built, the dowry I gave myself, and whatever children of yours I might bear. I knew that going in.”

“And now you’re angry because your life has been different,” he finished in a flat voice. “Because you don’t have a baby or a husband to dote on, and you’ve been playing the country maiden again. Except it was worse, wasn’t it? Because you weren’t my widow or my wife, not in truth, so the rules were against you.”

“That's not, it’s not that my life has been different than I planned. I just, I never wanted _this_. And I don’t want to continue this line of conversation.”

“You can’t just turn away whenever a question comes up you don’t like, Melissa,” he said, and stopped short, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What is it that you want from me? Do you even know?”

“Security,” she said, answering without thinking. His question, or rather her snappish answer, brought them both up short and they stared openly at one another, trying to figure out what to say next. For her part, she was being too truthful, because she did want security, it was all that she wanted for herself and her family. It wasn’t precisely what she wanted from Sebastian at the moment, though it did play into it, her desires for him weren’t wholly composed of how safe he could keep her. There were quite a few things they could do together that weren’t necessarily in the interest of security that quickened her pulse to think on. Her absentee husband was potentially very dangerous to her heart, and she was still sorting through how she felt about that.

“I promise you I’ll keep you _safe_ ,” he finally answered, the reply stiff. “I may not be much of a husband, but on that you have my word. I’m going to dress for this meeting and leave you to rest. I don’t think your presence is required by the Knight-Commander.”

Dismissed, she realized, and rightly so, if they stayed together longer they would just continue to fight. The problem was, Melissa wanted to sit him down and explain for hours, to spill all of her secrets out to man that she couldn’t trust, like a fool. If she couldn’t do that, she would settle for shouting at him, for picking a fight she couldn’t win just out of sheer frustration, but she didn’t. Melissa restrained herself from arguing with him, and let him have the last word. They said nothing further to each other, but he turned his back as she undressed and left her in the bedroom while he went to tidy himself up.

When she’d settled herself into bed and Sebastian left, closing the door quietly behind him, Melissa let her mask drop. She snorted to herself, angry and confused and a little sad. _“Security,”_ she muttered darkly, annoyed with her own truthful answer and how much it hid. From anyone else, perhaps that would have sufficed, but not Sebastian.

She would never be safe with her husband, and Melissa had the horrible feeling that’s what she liked the most about him.

#

He was in the bed, but he hadn’t gone to sleep here. There was no way the chaise where he’d settled down after his meeting with the Knight-Commander had suddenly gotten much softer and put a silk pillow under head. She’d gotten him in bed, somehow, but damn if he remembered it. He hadn’t wanted to lay next to her in case she hadn’t welcomed waking up beside him, the distance put between them forcefully after she told him she only wanted him to keep her safe. That statement had made his blood simmer at the time, fueling him with sap and righteous indignation that the Knight-Commander had approved of during their meeting.

Of course, the Knight-Commander thought his anger was solely for his cousin Goran, but truly Goran’s presence in this mire only confused him. No, that particular anger belonged to his wife, who he realized was right next to him even as he fumed about her. Melissa was leaning over him, gently wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, and Sebastian opened his eyes just in time to meet her gaze before she stood up straight again.

“You’re up,” she said softly, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He could feel the blanket over him and the warmth of her just outside of them. Her eyes were relieved as he looked up into her tired face, and his anger immediately faded into guilt. She’s taken care of him, again. “You were about as sick as I’ve ever seen someone, and twice as miserable. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Less tired. How did you get me to bed?”

“You came over and asked when you were feverish. At the tavern before Merrill came to fetch us, I meant to give you another remedy, but with all the moving and your meeting, I forgot. Fenris brought your medicine and told me what to expect to get you through the worst of it, and I was able to help with my supplies. The good news is that Varric knows a number of people that can help me start a garden here, so we won’t be without resources once my satchel runs out. He’s letting me appropriate a room to make into a stillroom, but I suspect that’s because he wants me to brew beer again.”

Realization dawned on him as Melissa leaned back and brushed the cool, damp cloth over his face again. She let him control it, and he took it from her, breathing in the scent of cold water as it passed over his face and he gave it back. “So you know I have malmagica,” he said, and it was a statement, not a question.

“I’ve suspected since you came to my study after passing out in my castle,” she said tartly, and then added in a sweeter voice that was somehow more mocking, “But it was confirmed when you told me in your delirium.”

“I _told_ you?”

“You apologized for a great many things, for our argument, and all your other sins, told me about your illness, promised to take me to Antiva on a honeymoon and said that you liked my hair. You also pissed yourself, but luckily that was when you were on the chaise.”

A full minute of silence passed between them as his acute embarrassment rendered him mute. He looked over to where the chaise had once been and found in its place a wholly different piece of furniture than he remembered. He closed his eyes, and then counted to twenty twice before opening them once more. His wife wasn’t even looking at him, her interest captured by a number of bottles by his bedside. Sebastian sat up, or tried to, as the full scope of what she'd been saying finally reached him. “How long have I been sleep?”

“Only a day. Fenris says this is mild, but the talking is new. I can only think that’s because of the fever and fatigue. He said that you’ll likely be under tomorrow again. Does it skip a day generally?”

“I had things I needed to do,” he sputtered, getting upset. He wasn’t mad at her precisely, but she was in fact, the only person around, so she would do.

“Yes, you needed to rest and let us take care of you, and you did that admirably.”

“I had other plans,” he ground out, not willing to tell her that he’d planned to break into Vael Castle and look for information. Now he’d lost a whole goddamned day and his wife was sitting there without a care. What did it matter to her? He almost laughed at the thought. She only wanted security, and she had it here in this underground bunker.

During his conversation with the Knight-Commander, Sebastian had been assured of his unconditional support. He had no use for Goran, who to his eyes was simply a spoiled boy that did nothing and looked, if not guilty than damn suspicious in the murder of the royal family. Sebastian was a military man, and unexpectedly had been found by one of his oldest friends. Meckel was a Knight-Lieutenant in the templar order, and had shown up at the meeting insisting that he be able to see Sebastian. Meckel attested to the Knight-Commander about Sebastian’s character, though he needn’t have. Sebastian was convinced the man would have supported him anyway, but Meckel’s earnest praise iced the cake, and put the Knight-Commander firmly in his corner, a useful ally when preparing to square off against his cousin Goran.

Meckel had always been loyal, and just proved it at the meeting. Not too long before he’d married Melissa, he’d still been out drinking and picking up one time lovers at taverns with Meckel at his side, but they were both respectable now. After the meeting, when the Knight-Commander was impatiently talking to Varric and Melissa was still sleeping, Sebastian had mentioned to Meckel that he wanted to go back into Vael Castle. Meckel promised to help him, but with a day lost, Sebastian wasn’t sure if the offer still could be useful. If the guards had changed anything, his vague plans would be worth nothing, and there would be no hope of finding information from within the castle to answer any of his myriad questions.

“If you mean breaking into Vael Castle, I’m sure you and I can do that tonight,” Melissa said in a voice that couldn’t hide her excitement. “I have some skill in skulduggery, and scouted it out last night while Fenris sat with you. I know you’d probably have liked him to go and look, but he’s a silvery tattooed elf with white hair and a great giant sword, and I’m small and have black armor.”

“Convenient,” he muttered and was finally able to sit up. As he did, his wife took one of his hands in hers and began to massage it, from the palm out. She had something on her hands, a salve from an open jar he could see sitting in her lap, but it started to ease the stiffness from his hand. Sebastian twisted his neck towards each shoulder, rewarded with popping noises as he went in each direction. Melissa didn’t even look up at him as she started to speak again.

“The Knight-Commander vouched for you, and I delivered your letter to the Grand Cleric. She was satisfied, and pleased that I came to show my support, though upset you didn’t come. I told her that it was in the interest of your safety at the moment. The Chantry has given Goran thirty days to find a reason why you shouldn’t be crowned prince as the rightful heir.”

“You went in my place?”

“Sebastian,” she said and sighed. When Melissa started to speak once more, her voice was softer, “I would do the same for any of my friends, and even more for my husband.”

This was her apology for the way they left things between them when he stomped out the other day. She’d gone and done for him exactly what he needed, showing her support to the Chantry and the whole of Starkhaven in the process. He reached out and touched her face, cupping her cheek in his hand. Even with as vexing as she was, Melissa was winning him over a little more each day, though it wouldn’t be hard for her to win him over; he desperately wanted to make things right between them. Their marriage might not have been much until now, but this good woman deserved the best effort he could muster. Sebastian thought about kissing her, but decided after a day in bed that his kiss, while well intended, might not be a reward. Instead they stayed like that, him holding her until Melissa looked up to meet his eyes and he felt it was time to pull away.

“I do love your hair,” he admitted, making her laugh, the sound filling the room and making him smile. Sebastian’s whole body ached, but not the way it had before when he’d been running on such limited sleep. Knowing that Melissa was safe, that her friends offered him shelter, that she would take care of him and that his family was safely at Andraste’s side, it did wonders for him. He felt lighter, though not spry at all, save for where she’d been rubbing that salve into his hands. “What was in the salve?”

“My special blend. Soothes aching joints and muscles. If you’re a good boy I’ll even do the other hand.”

“And if I’m bad you’ll do more than that?” he asked chuckling. She didn’t answer, and he didn’t expect her to, Sebastian had seen that she didn’t take to his overt flirting most of the time, and backed off when she did it herself, so he changed tactics. “Have you planned our way in?” he asked, getting up.

“I have, and we’ve got supplies. It’s just going to be me and you for the first part, if you’re up for it. Otherwise Varric and I can go, but Merrill’s hopeless at stealth and Fenris is far too conspicuous.”

“We’ve both lived there before, so we shouldn’t get lost even in the dark. Which rooms are a priority for you?” Sebastian asked, and knew a thrill as they started talking business. As much as he loved being an army engineer, and he did, he loved this type of outing too. There was something about sneaking in and out of places, of picking locks and hiding in the shadows that had thrilled him since he was a child. While his brothers had been taught to cultivate leadership and power, Sebastian had been left to his own devices to figure out what he actually liked. What he liked was the breathless exhilaration that came from sneaking right past a guard, vaulting over a wall and being truly free. From the way his wife was smiling at him, she shared that excitement.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip with her teeth in the most charming way. “I wanted to consult with you first. Do you want to think about it in the bath? I made a soak, well, I brought it from Lothian Castle, but I did make this mixture. It’s for aching muscles.”

“You love making things like that, don’t you? Where did you learn herbalism?” he asked, genuinely curious. It was plain enough to see that Melissa had a quick mind, she was smart and thoughtful, but this somewhat scientific and folksy hobby was a revelation to him.

“Back in Ferelden, all the farmers knew a bit of herbs and healing. It’s necessity, you know, that we can make our own salves and soaps and all of that. I expanded my knowledge when I came to Lothian and saw all the plants and had so much time to experiment with them. Merrill taught me more; she is Dalish and they rely on the land for almost everything,” she explained. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

That explained the closeness between Melissa and Merrill; they were friends and shared interests. He was betting that Merrill was no more of a maid than he was, but Melissa hired her anyway, gave her a job as staff and kept her friend nearby. There was another woman they’d both mentioned, Isabela, and he wondered about her. She wasn’t here, that much he knew, but where was she? He wondered what all three of them would be like when put together. Probably the trio would be all comparing notes on books and working the garden.

“I can fill the tub for you; the water is heated by magic,” she explained, and got up.

“Such a small amount won’t bother me. I simply shouldn’t be around large expenditures of magic, since it might make the malmagica worse.” He grinned at her as he got up, slowly. “They’re not actually sure about that, but there’s no point in taking chances, right?”

“Then I’ll call Varric’s servants to come change the bed and lay out some clothes for you. I can stay if you need me,” she offered, giving him a worried look. Sebastian, standing now, wasn’t weak or shaky but just stiff from the sleep and illness. He shook his head.

“I’ll manage perfectly well. You can go on and we can talk about tonight later. I’ve got ideas on where we should look for secrets, so we can be in and out quickly,” he said. Sebastian knew where his mother kept her correspondence and where his brother Graham tried to hide things. Those were good starting places.

Melissa shot him one last worried look and left the room. Sebastian, still not used to the grandeur of Varric’s home, made his way to an ornate and very large bathing chamber, with a bath that looked fit to house many people, not just one dwarf. His father once told him that dwarves liked to show they were richer than everyone else, even humans, so they made their homes overlarge to show their wealth. That was certainly the case here, and Sebastian busied himself with stripping off his rank sleeping clothes while the bath tried to fill. He’d sweat so much that his clothes were pungent, but there was a sweeter smell underneath it, one of flowers and pine needles and was most certainly Melissa’s doing. Sebastian found a toothbrush and put powder on it, thinking of her care. All she’d asked for in return was to be safe, and he’d been churlish about it. The thought made him especially guilty after he realized he was the one that brought danger into her life in the first place.

Such a warm heart deserved more than his prickled pride, and he resolved to let things unfold naturally between them. Despite their attraction, and he knew it was mutual, there was so much going on that it was best to focus on that. Whatever closeness or distance grew between them was in the hands of the Maker, and he’d accept it, come what may.

#

“Stay close,” he murmured, the words barely audible even as given their intimate proximity. Melissa nodded her ascent at him, too wary to risk answering him back any other way.

Sebastian looked devastatingly handsome in his own newly acquired set of all black armor, and she couldn’t help but admire the way he filled it out as they ducked in and out of shadowy in Vael Castle. Melissa shook herself out of those thoughts and focused on their surroundings; letting her mind wander at a time like this could spell disaster if she weren’t careful. Sebastian had taken the lead after they’d entered the castle, easily evading the patrols of the bored city guards. It should have been royal guards here, but they were all still under investigation after the death of the entire royal family in residence. There was no doubt that some of them would be hanged for traitors and negligence, even if they hadn’t an active hand in the murders.

Before they’d left, she and Sebastian sat down to plan. He’d sketched out a rough layout of each floor of the castle, and they’d agreed on a route to take, and he’d pointed out places to hide. She got the feeling that he was relying on knowledge of previous times he’d sneaked in and out of the palace, and Melissa was oddly grateful that her husband knew how to do such things. Strange to be glad that her man knew how to sneak and pick locks, but they were useful skills, and added to the list of things she liked about him. In their brief marriage, she’d never really gotten to know him. She’d lived in his rooms at this very palace, but simply staying in a place didn’t allow her to know him. She could have been staying at a very fancy inn for all the personality his rooms displayed to her before she’d been whisked away to take on Lothian.

Sebastian led her now with a sure and gentle step, creeping around corners and sticking to shadows even though there were no patrols nearby, she didn’t like the thought of them running into anyone. This place was much scarier than she remembered it, and Melissa didn’t love the marble columns and ornately tiled floors before a whole family was slaughtered here. The mingled smells of several different cleaning fluids and lyrium didn’t help to endear the place to her, but it was quiet and clean as they passed silently through the shadowed halls. Most of the polished wood doors weren’t closed, but left slightly ajar, as if they didn’t want to close the door on the ghosts in case they multiplied behind closed doors. She remembered this place full of light and people, the servants and friends that paid call, the family and faithful retainers that lived within these walls, now all gone. Chill slid down her spine as the recollection of earlier, if not happier, times faded, leaving them alone in the obsidian night. It was difficult and frightening to be navigating these dim halls with no one else about and so many deaths weakening the Veil here. It would be interesting if she and Sebastian were to take up residence in this palace after such a tragedy, but this palace, as sterile and cold was it was now, begged to be lived in and used. The Vael family had once been a large and dutiful brood when they took up the crown for Starkhaven, and they designed this place to be their actual home for their family, the city-state sprawling out underneath its impressive vantage, no doubt symbolizing their watchful eye.

There was footsteps behind them, and both she and Sebastian heard them at the same time. He signaled for her to go into a room, and she squeezed through an open door, Sebastian hot on her heels. An arm hooked around her waist and she was pressed up against the wall behind the door, folded into Sebastian’s embrace. The steps came closer, but with maddeningly slow speed. Step, step, step, _stop_. Step, step, step, step, _stop_. Whomever was patrolling was checking each room, and now she knew why the doors weren’t closed. It gave them a chance to see into the rooms without having to go in them, sloppy work.

She and Sebastian were melded together, breathing in sync. His heart felt like it was beating underneath her armor they were so close together, but neither of them dared moved. The guard drew closer, finally outside their door. Melissa shut her eyes and buried her face against Sebastian’s chest as she held her breath. The pause seemed inordinately long here, and she could feel her panic rising, the irrational desire to step out of the shadows and hit the guard with a cosh she had at the ready on her belt, but Sebastian held her fast. They were completely blocked by the door and the dark interior of the room; there was a distinctly cloudy sky and the moon had fallen behind clouds, but she still worried. They waited, and then, the guard stepped on down their path, going on to the next doorway. She felt a whoosh of expelled breath that could only have come from Sebastian, and she looked up at him.

His eyes sparkled sapphire in the shadows, picking up what little light came in from the window. There was mischief and desire in his eyes, and Melissa, aware now that she’d been pressed up against him for some time, felt the result of their careful hiding as his cock made itself known. She wanted to press into it, feel the ridge of his hardness and see if it was as impressive today as it was in her memories. The guard was still checking the doors, but the sound of the footsteps grew distant. Melissa didn’t pull away, held by his arms and the fact that she wanted to stay as close to him as possible for as long as she could. The steps started to come back towards them, and they both froze again, but they were steady this time, no stopping at each door. She barely breathed until she heard them fade to nothing, the guard walking back down the long hall that she and Sebastian avoided earlier. They would return to the side room where all the guards were set up so they wouldn't have to sleep in the deserted castle, keeping the ghosts at bay with their lackluster patrols, drinking and by playing a never ending game of dice.

She didn’t speak to Sebastian, but they were of a similar mind. His grip on her softened and he exhaled again, but this time Melissa didn’t look into his eyes or think. She kissed him, letting it be hard and exquisitely demanding, taking three years worth of kisses from him all at once, a glutton overeating at her first meal. She took and he gave it back to her with the same raw intensity, Sebastian’s mouth wasn’t soft and passive. His tongue met hers without hesitation, but he gave as good as he was getting, and she was taking as much as she could. A hand, trapped against his chest as the guard had circled back, snaked up around his neck and to his hair to run her fingers through it, her hips pressed against his, forcing him to the wall. Melissa kissed Sebastian until she couldn’t breathe, until her knees went weak and the world was tinged with white around the edges, and she could feel herself started to get wet between her legs. Sebastian broke the kiss with a turn of his head, then shook it like a mabari, like he’d lost all sense and had to shake it to bring it back.

Melissa stepped away from him, but he caught her arm. One more kiss, this one very soft and quick, and he led her back out into the hallway, this time holding her hand. She knew she’d have to explain herself, but that would be a discussion for later. They were here to a purpose and she should get back to it.

The castle was impressively designed, but the corridors and layout suggested a talented mind that valued ease of use. Soon after they’d started carefully creeping along the interiors again, she and Sebastian were at the stairs to the living quarters. He let go of her hand here, but she didn’t mind. She heard Sebastian draw in a ragged breath to steady himself, and knew that he must have been here when he found his family murdered. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it when she asked, and Melissa didn’t attempt to pry. Unexpectedly, instead of taking out his lockpicks, he pulled a key from under his cuirass. It had hung unseen on a chain around his neck, and with it he unlocked the door soundlessly.

The door opened on oiled hinges and closed behind them with a definite click that made them pause. After pausing to see if the lazy guard would return, they made their way up the stairs, avoiding the creaking middles in favor of the sturdier sides. Sebastian followed behind her as she ascended the wooden stairs, there was no more need for him to lead. She knew this area almost as well as he did; she’d lived here after they first got married. There were no windows to let in the scant moonlight, so Melissa took out her magelight stone, better known as a thief’s light. An enchanted stone housed in a discreet lantern the size of a quarter-pint jar, Varric had given it to her earlier for just this purpose. It didn’t go out when she put it in her pocket, but it dimmed until she brought it out, her touch making it burn brighter. There were eight bedrooms here, six with attached sitting rooms and a nursery at the end of the hall, unused since Sebastian reached age ten. It had been converted into an informal study for the family before she came, but she hadn't frequented it when she lived here. It hadn't been for her. 

There were no guards on this level as far as she could tell, and entire suite of apartments were silent as the grave. These private rooms all had doors pushed fully open, unlike the ones on the first floor. They'd likely been cleaned and then locked up, waiting for the new prince to come back. This wasn't likely the way they thought Sebastian would re-enter his home, but he wasn't actually supposed to take up residence until he was confirmed as prince. With Goran's claim in play and the palace a crime scene, neither of them were allowed in.

Earlier, she’d thought to teach Sebastian some of the smuggler sign language she knew, and employed it now, signalling that she was going to look up ahead for trouble. They didn't speak, just in case someone was laying in wait, or the guard had come back and was just outside the stairwell door below. Sebastian waited at the top of the stairs for her, and as she checked the first bedroom and saw nothing, she motioned him in there. It was his parents room, obviously the biggest, one of the main places they’d wanted to search for information. Melissa left him there so she could check the rest of the rooms with careful but quick looks, and then went back to join Sebastian in the master bedroom, so they could start their systematic hunt for clues, information, anything that might even come close to answering any of their questions. They had only the one light, so they had to search each room together. When she came back into the room, he was waiting inside the door for her. It was almost as if she’d expected his hand, his touch and Melissa waited for him to say what he needed to before she started her search. He took her hand and threaded his fingers through it, holding it tight.

“My parents,” he began in a solemn whisper, “weren’t found in here. This room should be intact, though I hid things in here upon finding the state of the castle.”

“You hid things? Why?”

“It was what we were taught to do. The steward’s records were for the public, but not the private records of the prince and princess. My parents showed us where the family histories, private records and the jewels should be hidden in the case of the castle being sacked. My mother would have done it herself, even whilst dying, had she the chance. I can only surmise that the staff was first killed and then my family taken by surprise not too long before I got home to find them. I’d ridden all night, because it made little sense to stop except for changes and I was weary of the road,” he said, confessing more to her with that statement than he had in all of their planning. “I wanted to be home, to see you. Nothing could have stopped me once we were near Tantervale.”

“What did you hide?”

He ran a hand through his hair and gave her a sheepish look. “I don’t really know. I was panicking, and Fenris was here and Lucian was standing outside to protect the estate, but the coach driver had gone to get the guard. I can’t rightly remember.”

There was no comfort she could give him, but she tried anyway with a hug. It only succeeded in undoing him completely. She sensed that he didn’t want her to see him crying, so she let him keep his face averted and buried in her shoulder for his short lived sobbing. When he drew back from her, Sebastian took a deep breath and then kissed her soundly. It wasn’t the same as before, there was no mischief or greedy desire in it and it wasn’t nearly as fun. Downstairs, their kiss had made her knees weak and filled her with anticipation, but this was a desperate attempt to fortify himself, the needy grasp for comfort through physical pleasure.

They broke apart and Sebastian led her around the room, telling her which drawers to look in while he retrieved and sifted through the things he’d hidden. She wondered if any of what he’d managed to conceal was worth the effort, because the rest of the room was not. He’d been in here afterwards, but only briefly. Sebastian had admitted to Melissa while they planned their escapade he hadn’t been able to handle it here in the castle alone, so he'd retreated to a private residence held by his brother Graham. It was from there where he searched for her, prepared the memorials for his family and worked with the Chantry to begin his ascent to prince. That was also where he was when someone had first tried to kill him, so the pied-a-terre was abandoned. He hadn’t thought to come back to the overlarge and not secured castle after that.

They finished the room quickly, Melissa checking with the tip of her knife for cracks that were too perfect to be made by nature and false bottoms in every piece of furniture she scoured. Sebastian retrieved the things he’d hidden and separated the wheat from the chaff as quickly as he could. They moved on to the next room, the one where his brother, the Crown Prince, had lived. Crown Prince Graham had a wife, Helene, who had her own quarters in the castle. This room was less harrowing for Sebastian, though it was clear someone had been killed here. The inexpert cleaning had left a thin line of blood splatter on the grey and white marble floor, and Melissa made sure to avoid that area. The thought of it wasn't as chilling as it could have been, she had no love for the Crown Prince, but it was eerie to know his life ended in this very room all the same. Her husband's thoughts weren't at all aligned with hers, and he broke the inhospitable atmosphere soon after they started to rifle through his brother's papers.

“You kissed me,” Sebastian whispered in the dark, and Melissa felt herself smile despite the grimness of their task.

"That's what you're thinking about right now?" she asked.

" _You_ kissed _me_ ," he repeated, ignoring her censure.

“You’ve kissed me since, but you were looking particularly kissable that first time. What of it?”

“I just wanted to remind you that you started this. Once we get out of here, I plan to kiss you again,” he said softly. Though his voice was low in the still, dark room, there was definite delicious intent in his tone. It made her heart, and other parts decidedly lower than that, dance at his declaration. Sebastian wanted to kiss her again, and she wanted to let him, even though she knew they shouldn't go down this road. This way lay disappointment in the future, probably even more than had been in their past, but she had started it as he'd pointed out, and now it was too late; she wanted all of his kisses. Melissa wanted nothing more, excepting for an exit from this castle and their task.

“Looking forward to it,” she muttered in a cool voice that in no way hid her smile. The air between them was lightened as they worked in the tiny light of the magelight stone and the subdued moonlight filtering through the windows. She was just about to tease him again when a noise made her ears prick up. Melissa only had time to exchange a look with her husband before the unmistakable sound the stairwell door opening reached their ears.


	7. Another Vael

Sebastian meant to confront whomever was coming in, because there would be no excuse if he were caught hiding in here. Despite his clandestine exploration, this was his home. If it weren’t for Goran’s ridiculous claim and the lack of enough royal guards, he would be living here. For the Maker’s sake, this was where he’d been born. He had a right to be here, even if he would rather live anywhere else in Starkhaven, he was always entitled to be at Vael Castle. While Melissa shrank into the shadows he moved out of them, a growing outrage that felt like a conflagration in his belly was getting the better of him as he went into the hallway. He wished a guard would try to arrest him for being here.

The interloper had their own light, though it wasn’t the elegant enchanted stone that Varric had given them. As they lit a lantern, Sebastian moved to the center of the landing above and took out his knife. He hated close-quarters combat, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t acquit himself well when pressed. As it always did before he knew he was going into battle, his mind cleared and he grew calmer, enough so to realize that this wasn’t a guard or assassin, because they didn’t move like a professional. He sheathed the knife with a frown and then remembering, stepped forward.

“Meckel?” he asked into the darkness, just as the lantern caught and illuminated his oldest friend.

“Maker’s fucking breath Sebastian, next time sneeze or something so you don’t scare me out of my skin. You got in all right I see.”

“Do you kiss Andraste with that mouth? I didn’t think you were coming so we went on without you. Did you pick the lock down there? That was nice work, we didn’t hear you until you opened the door.”

“Thank you, messere. You know I live to pick locks and plunder booty.”

“Then I have a friend you should meet,” Melissa said, stepping from behind him into the weak light cast by Meckel’s lantern. “I assume he’s the templar you said might help,” she asked and Sebastian nodded.

“Yes. Melissa, this is Meckel, the worst influence in my young life. Meckel, this is my lovely wife, Princess Melissa. Come on, we have to finish this search.”

“Thank you for helping us,” she said softly, sounding truly grateful for the third hand. Varric might have made a decent partner for them, but Sebastian didn’t know him and didn’t trust him with something this personal. Meckel would never betray him, and it pleased Sebastian that Melissa thought to thank Meckel for his help.

“My pleasure, Your Highness,” Meckel answered, giving her a grin that Sebastian knew of old. She saw it too, even in the low lantern light the gleam of his teeth was unmistakably inviting.

Melissa nodded and Meckel ascended the stairs, nearly as careful as Sebastian and Melissa had been, but not quite. He saw Melissa notice but she didn’t say anything. Meckel could talk people into and out of anything, which is how he wound up getting the details of this excursion out of Sebastian and insisted upon joining in.

“Meckel, if you flirt with my wife again, I’m going to assume you’ve gotten better at dueling,” Sebastian noted, keeping his voice friendly and even, but the sentiment behind it was anything but.

“You think that army training is a match for my templar might? We can find out after I tell Her Highness how dashing she looks in black,” Meckel whispered, with a grin in his voice.

“Then you should enjoy the next few weeks, because it’s all Sebastian and I are allowed to wear,” she said tartly, shutting them both up. Sebastian smiled into the darkness as they went back to work in Graham’s room. He might have warned Meckel that she wasn’t one for an overt flirtation, but why give him an advantage when Sebastian had learned the hard way? Pretty words and invitations meant little to her, but Sebastian wasn’t sure exactly what wound his wife up in the right way.

When she’d kissed him earlier, they’d been in danger. Not terrible danger, nothing life-threatening, but enough so that their pulses were racing and timing was everything. She’d cared for him, hugged and comforted him when he needed it upon entering the upstairs, but none of that felt like a flirtation, not like the first kiss did. He really couldn’t have timed it better if he’d done it himself; she’d made sure they’d both remember that kiss. He could be a dying man and he’d remember the feeling of her body against his, the soft swell of her breasts pressed on his chest as they’d kissed, her tongue daring and lithe in his mouth. He’d been captive in her embrace, too stunned to do anything but kiss her back, but damn if he understood the exact why behind it.

His thoughts veered towards Melissa and understanding her, a far more agreeable train of thought than keeping his mind on the task at hand. It wasn’t exactly quick work, the silent search between the three of them, but the extra lantern didn’t hurt. Sebastian went with Meckel after a quick whispered conference with Melissa on what she should look for. She was used to managing a household, and could recognize those records quicker than he would. Her task was to find financial records, bank drafts, loan notes and anything pertaining to the person finances as well as any estate records his parents kept.

He and Meckel went for personal correspondence, looking for loose papers in books, that sort of thing. He had a vested interest in this, because there were things Sebastian wanted to find, if they were still here. Words were exchanged sparingly, and the lantern kept carefully away from windows in the rooms where the curtains weren’t drawn. The last thing they needed was someone to see a light and call the guard to investigate. The magelight was of no issue, it cast a small circle of blue light that could easily be explained by moonlight, but Meckel’s lantern had to be managed carefully.

The sky was at its deepest dark overhead, black sky strewn with clouds and shafts of intermittent moonlight when they finished. Their bags were filled mostly with documents and Melissa’s prize find, an account ledger kept by his mother. There were a few other things, pieces Meckel had picked up and the things Sebastian had hidden by rote and instinct, but the significance of everything was yet to be revealed. After waiting at the keyhole of the stairwell door and carefully judging when it was all clear, the three of them left on three different departure routes, scattering to the wind so they could meet at Varric’s house as quickly as possible. Melissa pulled him into the shadows to give him a quick kiss goodbye though they wouldn’t be long separated; he’d meet her in an alley nearby. It wouldn’t do for either him or her to be alone on the streets tonight, even with Fenris on his path and Lucian waiting for her.

Plus, he really liked this new, kissy side of Melissa and would hate for something to happen to her before he got the chance to show her how much he appreciated it. He was thinking about her more than he should, but the kissing truly was a surprise. The argument they’d had before he fell ill, it played in his mind like the distorted sound of a music box winding down. The woman that simply said she wanted security from him wasn’t the same as the one he’d felt pressed up against him in the darkness, and definitely not the one that kissed him first, grabbing him as the lazy guard sauntered away and making him forget his own name.

“You were successful, it seems,” Fenris said, coming from around a cart that was artfully blocking an alleyway.

“I’m not being chased by guards, so I guess so,” Sebastian said, smiling at his friend. “I’m not sure what we got to be honest, just that I should have done more the first time we were in there.”

“No one could blame you for not having the presence of mind to look for documents after finding your entire family as they were. No one, not even a soldier, should have to see that,” Fenris said firmly, but his voice was carefully kept low so it didn’t carry into the mostly quiet night.

Around them Starkhaven wasn’t quite still in the small hours of the morning. As with every bigger city, the night spots were just closing, the brothel was still open and doing a remarkable spot of business, and the guards kept revelers and wanders in order as they walked through the streets. They were quiet as the too started to walk through the streets, heading back to the Dwarven Merchant’s Quarter. Sebastian had given his satchel of plundered documents to Fenris, but there were also a great many things on his person. He needed to sit down to rummage through them all. The malmagica had his bones aching, and he felt short of breath, but he was grinning as they walked, unable to keep his excitement under wraps.

“Here they come,” Fenris said, nodding towards their left. His elven eyes were better in the dark than Sebastian's human ones, and he could already see what Sebastian had to strain to hear. Two sets of feet, one a very light and much quicker step, due to her shorter legs. Melissa and Lucian came out of the velvety night to catch up with them. Sebastian nodded at them, almost afraid to look at Melissa now that she was up close. Her hair was braided in her elaborate Fereldan braids, bound out of the way in night black rope that his fingers itched to undo. Her hair hadn’t been loose in his company since their wedding night. He swallowed loudly, but no one paid him any mind as they continued on their way back.

“Wait, where did you get a bow?” he asked, finally looking at Melissa properly instead of simply admiring her.

“I’ll tell you when we get back.”

Two streets away from Varric’s house, Meckel hopped a fence and joined them. Fenris started at the unexpected intrusion, sword half-drawn before Sebastian could wave him down. Lucian, who was once part of Sebastian’s royal guard and had followed him to the army, simply sighed at the sight of Meckel. He knew Meckel well from the old days. No one spoke until they were safely within the walls of the house, and then it was Melissa that broke from the group first.

“I need to check on some things I left brewing. Sebastian, I gave Lucian my bag, but I believe this is yours,” she said, taking the bow from her back and handing it to him. There was no quiver with it, and he had the distinct feeling she’d stolen it from a place rather than a person, but she was correct, this was his.

“This is that Starkhaven Longbow, passed down through my family. it’s a Vael family heirloom. This bow belonged to my grandfather, before he passed. It was supposed to be mine,” he said in barely a whisper as he took it.

“Why didn’t you have it?” Meckel asked.  
  
Sebastian tossed him annoyed look. “You know why. His Highness wouldn’t let me take it into the army.”

“I saw the crest and I figured that it was something you’d want. You never said, but I could tell you’d been an archer,” she explained and then gave him a squeeze on the shoulder before taking her leave. He almost forgot to watch her walk away, but his eyes flicked up from the polished wood of the bow in time to catch her leaving the room, all hips and gently rounded backside encased perfectly in her black armor. He wasn’t the only one looking, but only Meckel met his eye afterward. Lucian looked stoically ahead, his gaze resting on the room as if it hadn’t ever veered away towards Melissa’s retreat. Meckel grinned at him.

“I think she might like you. I’ve never had a woman steal me anything good before, though there was the lady that tried to give me all that lyrium when I first became a templar, because she heard templars quaffed it like water.”

Sebastian turned back to face Meckel, but only after Melissa was gone from view. “Was it lyrium?” he asked.

“Mostly,” Meckel answered and gave a bright smile. “Some of it was just blue. It didn’t matter anyway, by that time I could sense it. Knew better than to drink dodgy blue liquid in a vial”

“Sure you did,” Sebastian laughed. Meckel handed over the bag he’d taken from the castle, and then for good measure, turned out the pockets in his armor. His was leather too, not the templar plate, but it was of old and had once fit better than it did now. Sebastian hadn’t noticed before, but Meckel was looking careworn, older and bloated, as if lyrium and ale made up his main diet. He was still handsome, but not quite the dashing figure he had cut in his youth.

One of Varric’s liveried servants came out to offer them refreshments, and Sebastian took up the proffered mug of dark, frothy ale as Lucian gathered their nightly spoils and took them all away. Fenris stayed behind, standing guard, noticing everything but saying little.

“Look, you didn’t need me there tonight, and I’m sorry I was late. It’s just that I wanted to be there. That had to be difficult for you,” Meckel said in a low voice, “and I just wanted to give you my support. I know how things were for you when we were younger, and I know you never wanted it to happen like this. I guess I’m saying I’m sorry, Sebastian. Before you get too teary, I’m going to head back to the barracks. I traded nights off to get tonight free and they’ll be expecting me to stumble in drunk soon. I hate to disappoint.”

“Thank you, Meckel,” Sebastian said. He tried to imbue his voice with princely authority, but it just sounded gravelly and tired. He didn’t want to touch on what Meckel had said, but it was true; in his youth Sebastian had often confided to Meckel that he should have been Crown Prince, not his brother Graham. Envy had eaten away at him until he’d finally left to be in the army and found a place there. But Meckel was looking away from him, waiting, and Sebastian let the thoughts drop and offered him a dismissal. “I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

“The Knight-Commander is sure to drag me along now that he knows we’re friends. I’ll probably catch up with you in the Chantry this week. Tell the princess that I’m sorry that I had to leave so early, but it was good to meet her.”

“Tell me yourself,” she said, entering the room again. Melissa had a vial in her hands as she came back into the front room, and had returned with Varric in tow. Varric had been absent for most of their time in the house, but he’d come for dinner that night and stayed at the house, waiting for them to return. Merrill had been thrilled to see him, since he’d brought word that Isabela’s ship had been sighted near Kirkwall. Both Merrill and Melissa had taken that to mean she was on her way north for a while, though it was still a guess whether or not she’d come to Starkhaven, since that would require her to take a barge up the Minanter and leave her beloved ship behind.

“It was an honor to break into a palace with you, Your Highness,” Meckel said, bending over her free hand and kissing the back of it. Melissa gave Meckel a shy grin that Sebastian hadn’t seen before. Interesting. She didn’t seem to mind overblown courtly manners and slobbery templar kisses. Sebastian frowned reflexively at the exchange, but said nothing.

“Until we meet again, Knight-Lieutenant.”

“Go home, Meckel. We’ll catch up with you soon,” Sebastian said, annoyance tracing the outlines of his words but be softened it with a grin. Maker, he was tired already, and they’d only been out for a few hours.

“So,” Varric said, breaking the silence after Meckel finally found his way out. “What’s going on here?”

“You know where we went,” Melissa answered. “And I assume you’re here because of the requests of the household. I’m sorry that I’ve left so much to you and Merrill, but we need all the help we can get.”

“Don’t worry about me and Daisy, we’re here to help. Your Highness,” he said, turning to Sebastian for the first time, “a little birdie told me that you need a good dwarven doctor. I’ve got one waiting to see you, and Hawke asked me to rearrange your rooms for the next bout of your illness.”

Sebastian had to bite back the words that wanted to come out, a recrimination of his wife for telling Varric, but that would have just been his anger getting the better of him. Of course Varric would know, even without Melissa explicitly telling him. His staff would have notified him of the goings on in his own house. The words were cool when they finally came out, and he hoped his momentary anger hadn’t shown on his face. “Much obliged, Varric.”

“This is for you,” Melissa said and handed him the vial in her hand. “It’s going to taste awful, but I’ve mixed it with gin to improve the flavor.”

“Gin makes it taste better?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

“Bottoms up,” she said, giving him an almost evil grin.

He wanted to kiss that grin right off her face until he tasted that vial. Then he had to focus on keeping whatever medicine she’d made down, all thoughts of kissing or anything else driven from his mind. Maker’s breath, that had better be worth it.

#

“I’ll be ill every other day or so for about a week, maybe two,” he’d told her before they went to bed that night. “The fever takes hold like that, going up and down until I either get better or jaundiced.”

“What happens if you get jaundiced?” Melissa asked.

“I’ll die. There are two kinds of recurrent malmagica, and one is fatal. I don’t know yet which one I have, though the army was hopeful that they hadn’t doomed an heir to the throne. It hasn’t proved to be fatal yet for me, but malmagica kills people, Melissa. I just want you to know the signs.”

“I won’t let that happen. I will stay here with you and make sure everything is done to hasten your recovery,” she said vehemently and meant it. Now she wasn’t so sure she could keep her promise. The dwarven doctor had examined him and left, only offering a few more medicines to counter the malmagica. He seemed to think it was along congruent lines as being lyrium addled for a dwarf, but it wasn’t really the same. The doctor had praised her mixtures as inspired and gave her a few more recipes for muscle relaxants and concoctions to keep the fever from running too high.

She needed more than she had available to her here. If she were at home in Lothian, she would have been able to do more to keep Sebastian’s fever down. Here she was working at a disadvantage and there were so many other items that needed her attention as well. She needed to search through the bags of papers they’d liberated from Vael Castle, and it had to be her because Sebastian asked her not to show anyone but Fenris, who couldn’t read very well. Then there was the things Sebastian wholly forgot to address at all, the fact that they both needed mourning clothes and new everything down to the shoes. There was security for Varric’s house to keep on top of, but luckily Fenris had inserted himself and Lucian into that area. Merrill had gotten her the exclusive services of an elven dressmaker and tailor for an exorbitant price, but their clothes would be made quickly so they could appear in public. Melissa had then dispatched Merrill back to Lothian to check on things there and hopefully bring more resources back with her.

All of this and social invitations were starting to find their way to them. People wanted to see the prince again, even if he wasn’t confirmed yet. Mourning protocol was different in Starkhaven and compounded by the fact that Sebastian was the prince. He set the standard here, and since he hadn’t been out in public yet since his family were given services by the Chantry, the normal social season was on hold. It would only resume when he made an appearance at both the Chantry and a social gathering, and people were clamoring to host a ‘tasteful memorial’ dinner for him to stop in at.

And someone was trying to kill him.

Melissa knew that to be true, because Varric kept his ear to the ground about such things, and a whole company of mercenaries had all been bought out. No one knew who’d done the hiring but they were lurking around Starkhaven, and had been seen around the palace before the dread deed was done. He was looking into it for them, but so far they’d been only found out the entire company was hired through a proxy. Varric was hopeful that in a few days he’d have some more information for them. All of these changes had come on so soon, and before her life had consisted of working on her castle, helping the people around Lothian and writing to Sebastian and her siblings. Now she sat here with a quill in her hand, unsure how to reconcile the last few days as words on a page.

“Lissa, are you there?” asked a thin, piteous voice from the bed. Sebastian’s sweaty head poked out from under the blankets that had been heaped upon him in a fit of cold. “I can hear a quill scratching.”

“I’m here, Sebastian.”

“Your hair is loose. It’s pretty that way, like it was at our wedding. What are you doing?” he asked, pushing himself further up. He still looked awful, his vibrant eyes dulled and his cheeks unhealthy and flushed, but the fever hadn’t taken him as badly this time. He slept fitfully, but he slept, allowing Melissa to cool with down with a towel bath every few hours, and rub the liniments into his limbs that would ease the stiffness from them.

“I was writing a letter to my sister,” she admitted, looking over him with a critical eye. “How are you?”

“It’s not as bad. Not as bad as before,” he said, and shuddered. “I might sleep some more.”

“You should.”

“I should kiss you again, like I said I would,” he said and she snorted.

“Perhaps another time. If you remember,” Melissa teased. She could hardly help herself, even though Sebastian was really in no position to banter. He seemed to like the lightness of it, because he stopped winding himself up in the blankets long enough to give her a weary smile before settling back into his bed.

“Oh, I promise you I’ll remember.”

“Then I have something to look forward to,” she answered, hiding the delicious shiver that went through her at the recollection of their last kiss.

“Is your sister close to her labors?” he asked, and she shook her head in answer, but his eyes were closed.

“No, she’s just started the part of her confinement where she’s housebound. It’s about another six weeks, I think.”

“You could go to her. I know you were planning on it. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his words drifting into each other as he burrowed back down in the blankets. Wrapped around him was the patchwork quilt she’d taken on their flight from Lothian, and he had wrapped around his shoulders. She should see that it got a good washing later, but if it brought him some comfort now, it was doing him no harm.

“I have responsibilities here. Bethany will understand that I must first see to you and Starkhaven. In fact, she’d be cross with me if I went down to Kirkwall to see her and left you here all alone. She had a soft-spot for you, I think.”

“I’m bloody handsome is what you meant to say,” he said, laughing. His laugh was thin and quickly turned into a cough as it came from under the blankets, but it made Melissa smile.

“I am not going to argue with you on that point. Do you need anything?” she asked, mostly to keep her own mouth shut. Sebastian, even sick, was more than handsome. Melissa ached to see him so ill, but there as truly nothing more she could do about it here. Given some time and more resources, she might stumble upon something that worked best for him, whatever that meant in this case, but for now she was glad to just be easing his discomfort.

“No, I’m just sleepy and cold again. It’ll pass. Stay with me.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“Good. It’s easier when I’m not alone.”

The question she didn’t want to ask. _“Were you left alone before?”_ , but she couldn’t quite make the words come out of her mouth. It seemed impossible that he would have been left alone during his treatment, but that didn’t meant he hadn’t felt alone. He didn’t say anything more, and after a while she picked up her quill again to the accompanying sound of his snores. Melissa watched over him as she finished her letter and then went back to the mass of papers they’d taken from the castle.

She wasn’t sure where to start with them, but she was curious about what Sebastian and Meckel had found. Before she knew it, Melissa was digging through the bags they’d filled, searching through the thick bundles to see what they contained. She stopped at a group of bound papers, suddenly nervous. Tied with string and written on the creamy ecru paper she preferred, she knew what these were. They were the copies of her letters that should have gone to Sebastian. Part of her wanted to throw them away, but she didn’t. He’d found them presumably wanted to read them, so she’d leave them for him. With a flick of her penknife, she undid the twine around the bundle and flipped through them.

They weren’t just her letters to him; some of these were Sebastian’s replies to the letters he was getting. Maker, he’d written to her. Not often or a lot, but enough. He never mentioned that he wrote to her, but then why would he once he knew that the letters he were fraudulent? There was a moment of hesitation from her, wondering if she should read these words, but he’d read the letters she’d sent him. Sebastian obviously intended to read them all, since he’d taken them from the palace. He couldn’t fault her for wanting to read the ones that should have been hers.

Curiosity won out quickly and Melissa separated the letters into two piles, one from her and the others address to her. Sebastian’s florid script started up at her from the envelopes, and after a deep breath, she selected one at random and began to read. They were mostly unopened, as if whomever got them at the palace didn’t ascribe them any importance once they’d penned a dismissal for her. When she read through the first six, with a further three more to go, she knew one thing for certain: Sebastian was a hopeless romantic who’d taken the news of his wife’s desire to separate hard. He’d vowed to fight for her, to win her back, to see their son and unite their family again if it was the last thing he did.

But she, real Melissa, wasn’t that woman at all. They had nothing to fight for, nothing to save, and in a way, nothing to lose. All there was now was her growing affection and the attraction that simmered between them, but that wasn’t much of a foundation for a family. Not for a man that had written, _“I beg you to consider my wishes, that I have always wanted a large family and that it was never my intent to stay away for so long. You and I will have to meet again one day, and when it comes, don’t be alarmed if I am not at all daunted by your request for privacy. It’s my right as your husband to see my son, and moreover, my duty to take care of you.”_

He’d been rightfully angry and hurt and confused by her for years, but that was never the truth between them. She didn’t have an inkling of what was between them now, besides her desire and confusion surrounding him. But she wanted to make something new and better with Sebastian, but where was she to start when there were so many lies told to keep them married yet apart? How could they move beyond being moved as pawns on a board, wielded by uncaring hands? And what of her attraction to her husband, who was attentive and wonderful now, but had no qualms on abandoning her when he felt it required for his duty?

She knew she shouldn’t set her own problems as foremost in this search for understanding, but Maker help her, she wanted to do nothing more than work out whatever was between her and Sebastian. Before they could even start to get past the lies, she had to find out the reason for them. If she found out nothing else, she needed to know why these lies and falsehoods were made to flourish and the truth left to wither and die. Why would anyone perpetuate the lie that she and Sebastian had a child? Who would have gained from such a fabrication?

Melissa put the questions in the back of her mind and picked up another letter as Sebastian snored on. By tomorrow, she hoped to start giving him, if not answers, then better questions than the ones they had when they walked into the palace.

#

Sebastian pulled himself out of a dead sleep, literally sitting up in the slender sickbed he’d been staying in while his fever held him. His mind was clear and worried as they stray thought that pushed him from sleep slapped him into unkind wakefulness. Melissa was asleep in the big bed, the one they’d been meant to share before he took ill again. He didn’t mind being alone, it was actually a small bit of comfort to know his alternate thrashing and heavy sleeping wouldn’t be disturbing her rest, but that she was nearby. Nearby was the key, he didn’t want to be alone during his fevers, not if he could help it. They were debilitating, coming on so fast and completely that he felt like a helpless newborn once in the grips of them. Melissa stayed here with him, all day, and stayed in the same room when it would have been easier for everyone if he moved into his own sickroom, but she hadn’t. He could hear the even sound of her breathing in the dim room, and calmed himself.

His mind, no longer racing, focused on that thought that had roused him. There was someone he hadn’t accounted for, and it was just damn poor planning on his part. His brother Rion’s husband was a duke from Nevarra, where they spent most of their time. Rion had been visiting during the attack; the first clue that it had been a planned execution on the entire family. They’d excluded Sebastian, probably because he was so hard to get to in the army, with the likelihood that they’d be able to kill him on the way home to Starkhaven. It would have been easier on the road, but no one could have known he was already on his way back.

Likewise, no one would have known that Rion’s husband, Edward, or Ted as the family called him, wouldn’t have been in residence. Ted had wound up going to Ferelden, bypassing Starkhaven until he came back to the Free Marches. If Sebastian’s letter had found him, he would be on his way home soon. If not, he was scheduled to come in a week anyway. He’d have to tell Ted that Rion and everyone else was dead.

How could he keep Ted safe and keep himself away from Ted? It was suspicious that this was all so perfectly planned and Ted somehow escaped it, but then again, so had Sebastian been spared the slaughter. Sebastian lay back down in bed, but got up after his head hit the sweat-soaked pillow. It was uncomfortably wet, and even turning it over proved to be of no help. His fever had broken, quite early this time, and he was ready to get on with his life.

A few hours later, Sebastian was bathed and had shaved when Melissa got up. He had been pleasantly surprised to find new clothes waiting for him. Fenris had reluctantly been persuaded to let Merrill take Sebastian’s dress uniform to the tailor she’d found so that the measurements could be used to make new clothes for him. They wouldn’t be perfect, but it was more than enough that morning to slip into a new cambric shirt and fresh trews. As he lingered over a quiet breakfast, waiting for Melissa to come and join him, he thought over the situation with his brother’s missing husband.

“There’s another Vael,” Sebastian started when Melissa joined him at the table where he was still sitting, reading through the mail and newspapers. She was dressed in a day dress like the one she’d worn during their escape, but it was also new. It was light green with an embroidered bodice underneath a neckline that dipped low for day dress but was perfectly modest in an evening gown and sheer sleeves. The bottom had tiered ruffles on the skirt, sweeping over the top of low-heeled boots. She looked delectible in it.

“You figured it out too? I thought there must be,” she said. She was buttering a muffin but stopped at what must have been a look of utter confusion on his face. A grimace was his only answer for a long moment, as the two of them started to reassess their positions before explaining. He wanted her to go first.

“What do you mean?” he prompted in a soft tone. He wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but some sense of his had started sounding an alarm at her words. Sebastian turned to her with a pointed focus that Melissa didn’t notice as she poured her breakfast tea.

“You were talking about my hair, that’s what made me think of it yesterday. What did you imagine our son looked like?”

“I always thought him more like you than I, truthfully. That’s how it seems to go with firstborn children, the girls end up looking like the fathers and the boys like their mother.” Sebastian was made in the mold of his mother, save for his very Vael blue eyes. His father was fair and had once been golden-haired before the grey took it, and had the same piercing blue eyes. Sebastian’s mother, Antivan born and brown-skinned, was the second wife of the former prince, and only had one child with him, Sebastian. She and her son shared the soft mouth, the same nose before his had been broken, and the russet brown hair with the hint of red underneath, strands that suffered in the winter, begging for the sun to come out and pull the shades of fire from the dull brown.

He looked over at his wife, studying her. Melissa’s hair was the heavy, silky black color of carbon soot, it was all at once dense and inviting as it soaked in the light and heat. He felt an involuntary spark of lust as he really took her in, and despite his infirmity the day before, he found his body more than appreciative of her looks. She had soft, large lips that dominated her small face, her dark brown eyes were almond-shaped but not large, and her nose flatter and wider than his, but petite.

A baby boy would likely have her dark hair and share a skintone between his lighter brown and her dark skin, he surmised, but it did little to alter the picture that was already in his head. Their child would have been beautiful, and a pang of loss thudded through him, so visceral it snapped all of the lust he’d just generated out of him.

“Sebastian,” she started, keeping her voice level, “do you know if Graham had any children?”

“No, there were none. It was causing my father all kinds of heartache to think that there would be no legitimate heirs to the throne,” Sebastian answered, but Melissa held up her hands.

“I never specified legitimate. Did he have a child outside of his marriage?”

“None that I know of.”

“What if you didn’t know? I’ve been thinking, and there had to be a reason that you were told we had a child. Maker knows if someone had given me a foundling to raise at Lothian, I would have done it happily.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t dismiss her theory out of hand. They both knew where she was going with it, but Melissa pressed on, saying the words aloud. “Graham had black hair.”

Sebastian was his mother’s only child, but his father’s first wife had been a Tevinter noblewoman that caused a scandal when they’d married. She had been dark-haired and olive skinned, and the Crown Prince had looked as much like his mother as Sebastian did his. His other brother, Orion, had been the spitting image of their father in his youth, pale and golden.

“There had to have been a reason why we were married so quickly, why your mother gave me that potion to make sure I didn’t conceive on our wedding night. We’re two healthy people, and given enough time, more than one night, I have no doubt that we would have gotten a child of our own sooner rather than later. But it was important that we didn’t have a child. If your brother, dark-haired and olive skinned, had a baby with a woman that resembled me in the broad sense, Rivaini or Antivan, with dark skin, hair and eyes, then their baby could probably be passed off as ours.”

“So you think that there’s a Vael baby? Hidden somewhere?” he asked, as excited as he was dismayed at the thought. Now that she’d said it, he was finding her theory more and more plausible. He wanted there to be a baby, because he wanted so desperately not to be alone in his family, saddled with so much. An heir, even illegitimate, would share in the family legacy, and eventually, the duty. He could take care of a child, even if they weren’t his children, though he rather thought he and Melissa would make up and start that process soon. “But then, what happened to the boy? If no one ever brought you a baby at Lothian Castle, so where is he now?”

At that, she shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn’t read anything about it in the papers yesterday. I read your letters actually, I thought I should tell you. The ones you sent back in reply.”

He noticed that she didn’t say “the ones you sent me” because they hadn’t really been to her, after all. But he nodded and looked away before circling back to his first topic. “I had another thought this morning about my family. My brother Rion’s husband is still alive, or at least he wasn’t among the dead in the castle. I want to make sure he stays in the land of the living, but away from us. As I thought on it last night, the conclusion I came to is that he could be sent to one of the other castles under guard.”

“You want to send him to Lothian?”

“Probably not there, but it would keep him safe. He’s a duchy in Nevarra, but I know Ted, if he thinks someone is after him he won’t go back there. There’s three castles other than Vael Castle and Lothian. Lothian and Riverbreak Fortress, which is to the west, weren’t kept up when I was younger. I have no idea what Riverbreak is like now. My grandfather, when he stepped down from being prince, he was dying, he was sent to Coraya Castle to the east. It sits on the Minanter and is the easternmost part of Starkhaven,” he explained.

“Have you ever been there?” she asked.

“I lived there with my grandfather for a while, near the end. It’s still in good shape, but that’s where we sent our retainers to rusticate.”

“And the other?”

“That’s where I think we should send Ted, if he turns up. Tyandis is to the west, near Riverbreak Fortress but closer to Tantervale. It was where I changed horses before coming into the city center. There’s plenty of resources there, and it’s where Rion and Ted kept rooms between here and Nevarra,” he explained.

“Do you think that Graham’s boy might be there?” she asked quickly, but he shook his head.

“No, I think if they were going to hide him in that way, it would have been with you, the way you said. Something must have happened, the mother must have kept him away. The most logical place to look would be here in the center of the city-state, perhaps they’ve stayed close to Graham,” he said, speculating. “But I don’t know what that could mean, precisely. There are so many neighborhoods in Starkhaven.”

Starkhaven had begun as a city surrounding the port on the Minanter. As the port grew, the city morphed into a city-state, and part of the Free Marches. It had grown into a large city and then encompassed the pastoral lands to the south and as far as they could hold on the east and west parts of the Minanter. The center of the city itself was a large, sprawling center that had been burned down and rebuilt with luxurious majesty. It was now a neat, orderly place with granite walkways and grand estates at the center, with neighborhoods flowing from the palace out towards the edges. The eastern part of Starkhaven butted up against Ansburg, the wester to Tantervale, and the southern farmlands and border near Wildervale.

“I wonder if she was getting any money from my family,” he mused, thinking of how to find out if this child and his mother were real. He needed proof, but he could tell Melissa was sold on the idea already. “I wouldn’t stay if there wasn’t anything in it for me, and it’s doubtful if they were going to take her child away that she remained Graham’s lover. Let’s hope she’s somewhere nearby, otherwise, they’ve fled and we have no way of knowing where they went.”

“Financial records will be our best bet,” she said, giving him a resolute look.

“Our next move is to find Ted and get him set up in Tyandis Castle so we can start looking for proof Graham had a child,” he finished, but she shook her head.

“We’ve got a meeting at the Chantry, and we have to pick a dinner party to attend, so the mourning can publicly cease,” Melissa said, and Sebastian swore. She was right, and he’d forgotten. “I had Varric help me narrow down the invitations. He pretends not to pay attention to politics, but he’s invested. Your dress uniform has been cleaned and prepared and my dress and hat are ready for services, and I’ve put in an order for evening clothes. Since tomorrow you’ll likely be down with a fever, I thought we’d select something for later in the week, but we can get to the Chantry for vespers tonight.”

Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, thinking. Maker, this was almost too much, but he had to find Ted and the child and whatever other pieces of his family that were left. If Ted had nothing to do with the attack, then he at least owed him protection as well, and the boy, if there was a child, he would owe more than that. He started when Melissa took his hand across the table, but he didn’t let go as she clasped hands with him.

“One day at a time, Sebastian,” she said. “That’s all we can do is take it one day at time.”

“That’s all we may have if we’re killed chasing down these other avenues,” he replied, but she understood him and squeezed his hand. If he was scared, he was sure she was too, though she didn’t show it.

But that was a problem too, he never knew how she felt because she didn’t show him. He wanted to know how his wife felt, what she was thinking, but how could he get know her now? There was too much going on, and when he either found answers or gave up, he’d have to sit on the throne. One of these days, when they weren’t chasing down leads and finding lost heirs, he might even pluck up the courage to ask her how she felt.


	8. Leandra

They weren’t really ready to go out to the Chantry that night, but he’d made the arrangements earlier in the day and now Sebastian and Melissa had to stick to them. They were expected now, and though Melissa’s eyes burned from looking through the trove of papers they’d liberated from the castle, she started dressing early in the afternoon. Sebastian asked her to attend to sorting through all that they’d taken, which was no small task since they’d filled three packs worth of papers and books, missives and small items. She hoped this would be well worth the effort and had set through searching Graham’s correspondence, searching for something that might prove her hunch right.

Sebastian too had been busy during the day, since he’d finally felt well enough to get up and start in on several key items. He needed to write letters of his own, meet with the Chantry mothers before they simply appeared for services, and petition the magistrates for full, legal rights to restart the government in his name, provisionally, until he was named prince. There was also the matter of their safety to contend with. The royal guard that normally would have protected him were either dead, locked up or disgraced, and he needed to find new ones. For the time being they would be flanked by templars, but neither of them liked that idea as a long-term solution. Lucian, who had once been a royal guard before following Sebastian into the army had been picked to lead the new troop of guards, provided he could find people to train and lead. Fenris would stay on as a personal guard, but he hadn’t wanted the responsibility of leading them.

Melissa was deep into a very boring letter that detailed the former Crown Prince of Starkhaven’s preferences on breakfast and how he expected his rooms to be made up while traveling when she had to stop. Varric’s seneschal led in the seamstress, the hairdresser and a new maid, on trial until Merrill came back, to help her apply her cosmetics. Melissa had thought to protest at first, it was only noon when they came for her, but then she recalled her wedding day. It had been a whole day spent in preparation for a few hours, and her mother had hired the best of attendants to polish her beauty until it shown.

She had a cape to wear to the Chantry, over the delicate silk of her dress, low slippers also made of silk, and a hat to top off the whole ensemble. The cape had been made from the Vael family tartan, though the royal Vael branch was subtly different than the rest of the clans that claimed Vael heritage. She had no doubt that there was significance to the people of Starkhaven, especially the nobles, but Melissa was still an outsider after three years and wouldn’t have even known to use royal Vael tartan without Varric’s intervention. Varric wasn’t around for these preparations, but he left a short note that told her to take the cape and that he was looking into the mercenary group that had been hired out completely and would report to her tomorrow.

She’d glanced in the mirror earlier, as her face was being painted and saw a stranger sitting in her place. It startled Melissa that she looked like a powerful woman, demure and in mourning yes, but a formidable beauty with arched eyebrows and eyes ringed in dark kohl stared back at her from the looking glass. There hadn’t been much time to muse further on her looks, because she was stood up to test her new shoes before she could be dressed and her hair finished. The door opened soundlessly when she was nearly complete, the attendants twittering over her in a fever pitch of activity. If not for the waft of air that accompanied it, she wouldn’t have noticed, but the room had overheated as she was laced into more and more layers of dress. Sebastian stood in the doorway, reclining against the wooden frame as her attendants made small adjustments to her attire.

“You look lovely,” she said, looking over at him as he watched them fuss over her final details with an amused look on his face. He was decked out appropriately in his formal dress uniform, which had been cleaned and pressed to pass the most rigorous inspection. His boots shone in a high polish shine even from where she stood, though they were the least impressive part of the whole ensemble.

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he said, and smiled. “But it’s true, you’re even more magnificent than usual, sweet.”

“Sebastian,” she said, but then caught herself. There were far too many ears around to hear her stumble like a fool as she tried to figure out her feelings for her husband. “Please, leave us,” she told the attendants. With a few final tweaks to her hair and dress, they were left alone.

“I have a gift for you,” he said, and came across the room. The door had been closed firmly shut behind the last departing person, and now that they were alone together, Sebastian seemed to fill the room. He crossed over to her with the grace of a panther, and held out a white gloved hand. Inside of his palm was a sparkling gold necklace, no, a locket, heavy and ornate and obviously very old. It was gorgeous, and she admired it with the delicate touch of a fingertip but didn’t take it from him. “This should have been yours upon our marriage, but I’m not surprised my family didn’t give it to you.”

“Will you put it on for me?” she asked, dismayed that the question came out breathy. His mere proximity to her caused it, though Melissa was sure that the corset she’d been forced into didn’t help. Sebastian nodded in answer, his expression unreadable before he stepped behind her.

Her hair had been pinned up into elaborate curls and twists, accented by braids running along either side from a center part. The back was mostly up, but three long coils trailed down her back, showing off the enviable length of her hair. Sebastian swept them aside with his hand, and it was only when his skin touched the back of her neck did she realize that he’d taken his gloves off to do it. He clasped the locket on securely, and she examined the heavy golden amulet. The crest of the royal Vael house was engraved upon the exquisite piece, but she didn’t try to open it just now.

“It was my grandmother’s locket. Meghan was my father’s mother, and she married my grandfather Peyton Vael. They loved each other very much; she was the love of his life. She passed before he did, but he talked about her all the time. I remember more of her from his stories than my own memories, if I’m honest. My grandfather bequeathed this necklace to me when he died, to one day gift to my bride.”

“It’s beautiful, Sebastian. Thank you.”

Sebastian was still holding her hair out of the way, and bent to kiss her neck. When she leaned into it, feeling the warm wall of his chest against her back, Sebastian was encouraged not to stop at just one kiss. He didn’t disappoint her. His lips trailed over the back of her neck and down a side, grazing her chin and jaw. His touch was electric across her skin, even though his kisses were laid with a soft touch. Belatedly, Melissa realized they shouldn’t be kissing, they had to go to the Chantry, but the glide of his lips across her skin felt too good. She should step out of his arms, but she couldn’t, not yet. When he flicked his tongue across her pulse, tasting the skin of her neck, she actually felt her any remaining resistance crumble. Molten hot desire pulsed through her, making her want to forget the Chantry and everything else they’d planned to do tonight. Her skin was on fire from his kisses, and Sebastian hadn’t stopped, nuzzling her neck as she leaned into him, her head tilted away from his kisses to afford him greater access.

She wanted more kisses, more of this. They hadn’t the time for this before, right after their wedding and now she wanted it all. Sebastian sucked tenderly at the spot of skin he’d licked, and her knees went weak. Her breath came in small pants through her parted lips, and her hands tried to scrabble for purchase on him, gripping his side as she surrendered to his onslaught.

When he finally broke away, she was dizzy and hot, but nowhere near done. Melissa turned in his arms so she could return the kiss, excitement coiling with lust in her belly before her senses could stop her. He bent to kiss her neck from this new perspective, teasing her with nips at her chin and hands that somehow went everywhere in just the right way. Sebastian bent lower and kissed the small part of her collarbone that was exposed, trailing from right to left as Melissa whispered encouragement. Her own fingers wove into his hair, crawling up from the wall of his chest where they’d been trapped before. She wanted to kiss him properly, so she tried to angle his head to hers, but Sebastian didn’t comply. Instead of the deep kiss she wanted, he gave her a neat, quick little kiss that barely grazed the corner of her mouth before stepping away.

“I’d hate to ruin your lip color,” he said with true regret in his tone and desire making his eyes sparkle, “no, I’d love to do it, but I can’t be wearing it to the Chantry.”

Melissa couldn’t help but smile at him, though her heart was racing and other parts of her were disappointed there wouldn’t be more kisses. “Sebastian,” she said, but stopped herself. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to continue kissing him, but he was right. She cleared her throat to regain some composure. “I suppose we will have to pick this up later,” she said, and once again her voice had gone all soft and breathy of its own accord. Her frustrated body didn’t agree one bit with what her mouth was saying, and Melissa was terrible at hiding it. Perhaps that was why Sebastian pressed a kiss into her palm, holding her eyes the whole time, his gaze intense and deep and dangerous.

“We should get to the Chantry, sweet,” he said, calling her the endearment again that make her feel all fluttery inside. “I’ll likely be ill again on the morrow, so this is our chance to pay our respects.”

That sentiment sobered her, and Melissa let Sebastian go without begging him to continue kissing her, but it was a near thing. They were doing this for a purpose, she reminded herself, and tried to focus her mind on it. She mostly failed, with her hands yearning to reach out and touch him, feel his body under that uniform, to run through the softness of his hair and over his smooth chin. She wanted nothing but him, oh Maker, she wanted so much that it felt like a sin, except that he was supposed to be hers and that thought was overwhelming to think on. Sebastian was her husband, and she could want him without shame, but never without regret. There were so many years wasted between them.

They took a plain black carriage without any crest on the side, manned by Lucian and Varric’s reliable footman to the Chantry. Their templar guard would be awaiting them there, but Meckel had advised them that he wouldn’t be able to attend on them tonight. He was on Harrowing duty for the night, and Melissa felt bad that he’d gotten the grimer of the two assignments. As they rode together, Melissa touched the hat that set perched atop her head. It was strange to wear such a grand creation, made to match the tartan cloak she’d take off at the Chantry. It was beautiful and like the cloak, reinforced subtly that she was part of the royal Vaels.

“Tomorrow, do you have anything to which I should attend?” she asked, thinking of the pile of papers she still had to read, and how much she wanted to do anything but that.

“I always need my wife by my side,” he said, and his tone wasn’t quite playful, but it still sent warmth through her.

“Is that so?” she asked in answer, amused by his flirting.

“It has been to my benefit recently, sweet. But I don’t expect you to sit around with me everytime.”

“And what is it you suggest I do?” she asked, her voice just a shade too low for the question to be looking for an innocent answer. He took her hand and kissed the top of it, keeping his eyes on hers as he did. A shiver stole through her as his unblinking blue eyes promised more than words could say. When he set her hand down without releasing it, he gave her a verbal answer to the question.

“That’s up to you. It’s always your choice. When I’m well again, and this stretch of...unpleasant illness is over, I’ll be sure to reward your fidelity,” Sebastian answered. The look he sent her was unmistakable, even in the dimming twilight that filled the carriage. She wasn’t quite sure what he answering gaze said, but whatever he saw in it made the corner of his mouth lift in appreciation.

A large jolt from a missing brick in the road literally bounced them out of their seats. It ended the warm intimacy between them, for Sebastian turned to look out of the window while swearing at the state of things, and Melissa was left to her thoughts. She wondered if the Mother would hear her confession tonight, they sometimes did that before memorials. It helped to have a clear conscience when mourning the dead. It was called the cleansing, like the flame that was lit for the pyre, but this fire was for the living. Melissa rejected the thought as Sebastian smiled over at her. If she were to burn for sin, she surely had greater ones in her past than merely wanting her husband. On the whole, it was one of the more benign things she could ask forgiveness for. There were so many other things she’d done.

They entered the Chantry flanked by the waiting templar guards, and to much excitement from the people already assembled within. Despite the restrained applause that started when they walked in, it wasn’t hard for Melissa to maintain a somber countenance. This duty was awful, and she’d done it before, though experience didn’t make it any easier. There was only one unexpected wrinkle this time, and it was Sebastian’s would-be usurper. She wasn’t prepared for Goran Vael.

Goran stood up as they came in, beautifully dressed in unrelieved black mourning clothes of the most expensive sort, and he was clearly dismayed that they’d shown up at all. Sebastian had warned her that Goran wasn’t a smart man by any stretch of the imagination, but Goran imagined himself to be cunning, which was more dangerous. Sebastian hadn’t told her everything, though Melissa wasn’t sure he observed it all as she did. Goran Vael made her shudder, and not in the good way. There was a brutishness about the man, one hidden carefully under good looks and smiles, but there was a cruel glint to his blue eyes. They were Vael blue too, just like Sebastian’s, but that was all they had in common.

Goran was blandly handsome; the type of man that was large and well-made but with an unremarkable face. She wouldn’t have known him from the other handsome noblemen if he didn’t make himself known, standing at the front of the crowd and making woebegone faces at them, as if his grief must be acknowledged before they dealt with their own. As she’d noted, his eyes were blue, and his hair was a muddy shade of brown, without the red undertone that made Sebastian’s hair look like dark fox fur. Her gaze slid right over his face until she concentrated on it, and then there wasn’t much to him. Thin lips and a somewhat large nose that were camouflaged by a dark goatee that didn’t quite hide a weak jaw, and a face that was softening from angular good looks of youth as he entered his middle years.

Though he lacked the presence of Sebastian, he still had some charisma, though people seemed polarized on his presence that evening. Some stood close to the hulk of a man while others kept a pointed distance. Melissa found him lacking, but wasn’t able to describe why exactly. Perhaps it was the combination of all she knew of him, though there was something off about his looks too. She couldn’t put her finger on it. His clothes were made to fit him perfectly, but he didn’t come anything close to Sebastian.

Her husband on the other hand, well, Sebastian looked phenomenal in his austere, formal grief. With his fresh shave and dress uniform, he looked every inch the Royal Army Officer he was. The set of dress blues was offset by the gold braid at his shoulders, shining brass buttons down his chest, and his many, many medals. His white gloved hand held hers, their fingers intertwined as they approached the front of the Chantry. Earlier, when he’d kissed her, she’d run a finger over the medals and badges pinned to his chest, but hadn’t wanted to ask about them when they were so otherwise occupied. Though Melissa was far more familiar with the Ferelden military, even she knew the colors for badges of valor, gallantry, and the Prince of Starkhaven’s medal of honor for brave conduct. That one could only be earned in battle with Tevinter magisters. The others she could well guess, but would ask him to explain one night when they weren’t facing down an enemy.

Were this a court function, they would have called out Sebastian’s titles and the honors he’d earned and won, which included a degree in engineering that he finished by becoming an officer in the Royal Engineers. He’d confided to her that he’d joined the army as a cavalry officer after failing to gain entry into the engineers on his first try. For six months he studied while training to retake the test, and passed on the second attempt. It was just in time too, since he’d have been deployed to fight with the cavalry soon after if he’d failed the test again, but instead he was sent for another round of training as a combat engineer, and once he was certified, he had a place in the sappers, a degree and a certification for his engineering studies.

“My cousin,” Goran said, greeting Sebastian but not using his proper title, “And your wife, I presume. I am distraught. Allow me to offer my condolences.”

“Thank you, Goran,” Sebastian said and his tone was level. The rich baritone of his voice made it carry without seeming overloud in the Chantry. All eyes were riveted to the three of them, even those of the Chantry mothers and sisters that were scattered along the sides of the room. “We are less for the loss of our royal family members, and I will do my best to honor their memories.”

“As will we all,” Melissa added, and her words were laced with a touch of defiance. Goran’s blue eyes narrowed on her, his focus so intense that she was sure it was designed to make her uncomfortable. Melissa kept her gaze on Sebastian, only seeing Goran from the corner of her eye. She didn’t acknowledge either Goran or his rude stare, instead patting Sebastian on his arm. “We should sit, Your Highness. The service for memorials will be long.”

“Of course, my sweet,” he said, steering her away from Goran. His cousin wasn’t yet finished, but he couldn’t hold them for much longer without breaching the rules of propriety. Instead he looked at Melissa and gave a small, cold smile.

“I’m sorry that you’re in mourning again, not so long after the death of your mother. I heard of the demise of Lady Amell. I hope if you find the burden difficult, that you call on me, cousin, as I hope Sebastian will in the future,” Goran said, and his voice had taken on a sickly, oily edge as he delivered his parting shot.

Goran’s clumsy words hadn’t hurt her; it was quite the opposite. She had a detachment when it came to her mother’s death, she’d had to cultivate it to survive. Melissa realized belatedly that the shot had found a mark, unintended, but true. Melissa felt Sebastian stiffen beside her, and realized too late that he hadn’t known about Leandra. He didn’t know about her mother. Sebastian didn’t know about the aftermath of it all. He couldn’t have, if his family (and she was quite sure it had been his mother’s plan) had sent false letters to him. They wouldn’t have thought to involve truth in their missives, especially not if it distracted from their plan. Her mother’s death would have given Sebastian a reason to take leave from his unit, and then he might have found her and ruined their lies earlier than planned.

Her heart felt like it collapsed in on itself, and Melissa found it hard to breathe for the space of a heartbeat. All of her hopes for them died in that instant, because Sebastian had never gotten any of her letters. He didn’t know her at all. He couldn’t know about Kirkwall, or two years ago when her mother died, or anything that had happened since then. Despite his kisses and promises, the truth was clear as crystal. He didn’t know what she’d done, and there was no way Melissa could keep it from him. Her first instinct was to explain, to smooth everything over and find the words to make it, well not right, but understood. But she couldn’t, Melissa was keenly aware of where she was and what she had to do next. She gave Goran a sad little smile of acknowledgement before she spoke.

“Thank you, Cousin Goran,” Melissa said softly, giving him what she hoped was a doe-eyed look of innocence to hide the loathing that writhed within her. “Your offer is welcome if made in friendship and good intentions. If not,” she said, still as innocent as ever, “then may Andraste save you, for lying in the Maker’s house is the gravest of sins. As you were,” she finished, dismissing them all with a regal nod, allowing their spectators and the rest of the assembled mourners to sit back down before she was seated. They made their way to the empty, private section for the rulers of Starkhaven without anymore incident, Goran Vael looking daggers over at them from the front of the general congregation when he thought no one was looking.

#

Leandra Hawke, Lady Amell was dead, and his wife hadn’t told him that her mother had died.

To be fair, he realized almost immediately that Melissa likely had told him and the news hadn’t made it to him, because of the false letters. It was galling to think that whomever wrote the letters, and he was nearly certain it had been at his mother’s order, hadn’t included that fact. Sebastian had to force calm through his body, unclenching the hand that had balled into a fist and breathing deeply to release the stiffness in his shoulders. Goran had used Leandra’s death to try to insinuate something about Melissa, and though he didn’t yet know what was meant, he knew an insult when he heard one.

Leandra Hawke, Lady Amell, had been a charming woman, one who’d laughed at his little jests as he introduced himself and had been impressed with his courtly manners. He’d met with her on three occasions, the last one being his marriage to Melissa. He wished he’d known more of her, who was beyond the politeness and pleasantry that they were bound to respect because of their stations. Melissa looked like her mother only a little, with the same eyes and nose, but a slighter figure and darker shade of skin. Her mother, if he recalled correctly, looked more like her second daughter. Lord Carver, well Sebastian supposed he was called Lord Amell now, but he didn’t recall Carver’s features at all, save for the fact that he was a massive man, more of a masculine heap of muscle, bigger than both of his sisters combined, but Sebastian had only met him twice.

“Melissa,” he said softly, hoping his undertone wouldn’t be too audible. “The princess of Starkhaven’s prayer book and hymnal are kept here. They were gifts for our family,” he explained, gesturing at the end of the cushioned mahogany pew where they were to sit. He wanted to include her in the family, though if she’d ever come to this Chantry to worship it was his mother that would have taken up the special prayer book in their private section. Their seating section was sequestered from the rest of the congregation, but only so such prominent people could be viewed and admired by all. It was a stage, just not the central one where the Grand Cleric would take her place.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Melissa answered, and retrieved the items. After she shed her cloak and settled herself along the cushioned pew, she took up his hand again but didn’t meet his gaze. She was as grateful as he for something to do, things to say that wouldn’t invite more questions. Now wasn’t the time to talk and it certainly wasn’t time to ask about her mother.

Questions burned within him but they weren’t ones he could even articulate if he could have voiced them at the moment. The foremost in his mind was wondering if Melissa was as fine as she’d seemed through this whole ordeal. Without knowing, he’d made her part of this, bringing her into his family’s sordid lies and murder, and she was likely still mourning her own mother. The strength in her was astounding, because she’d never once betrayed that anything might be amiss in her life, other than him barging into it. Sebastian stole a quick look over at her and saw her sitting straight and proper, her hat still pinned on though she’d discarded her cloak. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and her hands rested lightly atop the prayer book in her lap. To all onlookers, Melissa was the very model of a beautiful, serene princess in mourning.

As the Grand Cleric started the services, Sebastian was attentive to how others would watch him and made sure he betrayed nothing outwardly but interest in the sermon and proper diginity to his deceased relatives. His inner turmoil never reflected on his face, though at times he did turn to Melissa to see how she was doing. It was not improper for him to hold her hand or pat her arm comfortingly from time to time, and he did so. It would have been most improper for him to lay down in the pew, pull his wife to his side and whisper how terribly sorry he was to have brought her to another funeral service. That was what he wanted to do, and likely would do after they left. For now they both held to their appearances, with Melissa better at keeping her face mournful and dignified than he was. Sebastian simply felt like fleeing this duty, but he supposed it was the first of many he couldn’t abandon.

“May Prince Sebastian, Princess Melissa, Goran Vael, the extended Vael family and all of Starkhaven find solace in the words of the Maker,” the Grand Cleric droned on, and Sebastian ground his teeth at the inclusion of Goran. Goran was no closer to him and Melissa than the rest of Starkhaven, but for his ridiculous claim that Sebastian was dead and he was the next of kin. That wouldn’t even have been correct, because if Goran knew enough about Melissa to know her mother died, he would have known that she was Sebastian’s next of kin.

With a shock that he was careful not to show, Sebastian realized why Goran knew so much about Melissa. It wasn’t because he was truly concerned, anyone could see that his mourning was but playacting, but because Melissa was his key to Starkhaven. With Sebastian gone, or at least believed dead, a good way to legitimize his claim would be to marry the widow of a prince. Or widower, if Ted could be found. But Ted wouldn't do, would he? Because he was already a duke in Nevarra, and he had never renounced that title as Melissa had hers, letting the mantle of Amell fall to her brother. Rion had also become a duke, since it afforded him more power than being the second heir to a sitting prince, but they primarily lived in Nevarra. Ted’s dukedom would always come before the throne of Starkhaven if they were wed, and thus made him an inappropriate choice, but Melissa, well, Sebastian sneaked another glance at her.

Melissa was gorgeous, even if mourning colors didn’t truly suit her. Though she was no maiden, she was still quite in her childbearing years, intelligent, and Maker, just so damn lovely of a person that Sebastian was nearly overwhelmed by her. The urge to kiss her flooded through him, like wine in the veins, and he had to stop himself from pulling her closer. Leaning himself against her might be taken as weakness on his part, and not the determination to feel as much of her up against him as was appropriate in the Chantry.

Goran wanted to steal his wife to shore up his claim, and Sebastian, the stupid bastard that he was, had not only brought her to the center of the city, but had galloped to her hidden sanctuary. Goran and whoever was behind his sudden ambition to princelihood, would have followed him to Lothian or found out about it by now from various eyes. Hell, any of the farmers around her castle wouldn’t balk at an extra bit of coin to tell someone who lived within the castle. They’d find nothing wrong with singing the praises of his lady to anyone that asked, and thereby destroying her ability to hide there. This was his fault, because he’d thoughtlessly run to her, to find a child that never was and a wife fed believable lies because of his negligence and carelessness. He’d ruined her sanctuary, put her in danger and now had just learned that among all the anniversaries and birthdays he’d missed, he could now add a funeral for her mother to his pile of outstanding obligations.

Maker preserve them all.

His mental castigation of himself continued throughout the service until the end, when Sebastian was thoroughly miserable and ready to leave. Melissa’s small fingers were still threaded through his, and when Sebastian stood he let her go for the first time. When he stood, everyone else did as well, and so he made his obeisance to the Grand Cleric, mumurred his thanks and let Melissa do the same, and took his leave. He needed to be alone with her, to talk to her about his thoughts.

“I suppose I should tell you about Mother,” she said, her voice weary as they were closed into their carriage and headed slowly through town. The aim was to be seen enough that it would confuse most people when they headed to Varric’s house. They were still denied the palace, though that would not last any longer than Goran’s fool ambitions to unseat him. The Chantry couldn’t sit in the middle forever, they would have to name him prince eventually or prove themselves as powerless without the direction of a monarch behind them.

“My sorrow for yours, Melissa.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she returned formally, but her voice was expressionless and flat. What she told him now she said by rote, her voice dull as she gave him an undoubtedly sanitized version of events.

“Mother died two years ago. She was courted by a man that Carver and Bethany assured me seemed a most amiable older gentlemen physician. I met him once, and thought nothing at all of him, save that he was not worthy of following my father, but Mother cared for him. Quentin, his name was. Around the same time, the Guard Captain in Kirkwall, Aveline Hendyr, asked Carver to look into some disappearances that a templar was investigating. A mage died, I believe, and there were signs that other women had as well. You can imagine how this ends. Quentin was carrying out the deaths, luring women like Mother to their ends. I happened to be visiting when she went missing, and gave chase with my brother and sister and Merrill. We found her, dying, too late for any healing magic to do anything. He had,” and it was only here that she faltered in her recitation, taking a deep breath before continuing, “altered Mother in such a way that her body was comprised of parts not fully her own. She died from the shock of it.”

It was her confession and her mother, but _he_ was the one that flensed by her words. Sickness crawled up his stomach in an disgusting creep he couldn’t stem; it roiled as he tried to say something, anything to her. The silence in their carriage felt oppressive and heavy, but he was horrified that he there were no words he could think to say that might offer comfort. His paltry words before seemed so insufficient that it was laughable. Her mother had been murdered. Altered even, by a man that she trusted and was seeing. No wonder Melissa had worried that he was mad when he burst into Lothian and started yelling, she’d dealt with a man that hid his true horror until it was too late. A glance at Melissa in the dark interior of the carriage revealed her face to be mostly in shadow, and her eyes closed after her recitation.

“Melissa,” he started, but she cut him off. Wary eyes snapped open at his faltering beginning, but there was a hard fierceness in them as well. Whatever she needed from him, it wasn’t sympathy or softness.

“I know, it’s horrible. You don’t have to say it. Not everyone knows how she died, only that she was killed. The Chantry sister in Kirkwall that came to attend her body promised us silence and so far she has kept her word.”

“You shouldn’t have had to endure that alone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I wrote you about it, eventually. I’m sure it’s in the stack of letters. When you read it, Sebastian, don’t judge me too harshly. I was very badly shocked by Mother’s death.”

That warning was given in her same odd, flat voice, but it struck him that she was trying to sound benign when she said it this time. Grief must have taken her very badly. He knew how that was, not because of now, but because of how he’d been when his grandfather died. His grief and confusion had been profound, and he’d indulged in sorrow far longer than had been healthy for him.

“I would have come back, had I known,” Sebastian assured her. It seemed the least thing he could say in the situation, but he wanted to make it known. What he really wanted to say was, “I love you and I’m here now,” but even thinking that was terrifying in a completely different way. How could he know if he loved his wife after such a short time? They’d certainly not been in love before, but the words felt true in his heart. That’s all he had to go on, but he couldn’t offer them up yet, so he stuck with the safer truth. It would have been his duty to come back, and he would never again shirk it where Melissa was concerned.

“I know,” she said simply. After a few more beats of silence she added, “I thought that likely the reason why they never told you. I’m certain it was your mother by the way, who devised the false letters. No doubt she planned to keep you in reserve for whatever her plans were, and let me go after a fashion. But I haven’t found much evidence in the papers we took.”

“Do you care to discuss them?” he asked, but was betrayed by his own yawn. She didn’t smile at the sound, not exactly, but he caught a slight flicker of amusement in her face because of it.

“Discussion of it will surely put you to sleep, and I think we still have a long ride ahead of us before we get back to Varric’s. I hope this does keep people from finding us, but it is tiresome.”

“My fever has already started,” Sebastian said. “I can feel myself growing warm and my collar feels too tight.”

Melissa came over to loosen it for him, scooting until she was close enough to touch him. He wanted to hold her, but that might not have been welcome, not now when she was so raw. She didn’t hide her grief well tonight, not after the Chantry and Goran and having to tell him what happened. Whatever layers had buried it were unraveled and left her bereavement plain on her face. Two years had passed in the blink of an eye and it was not sufficient time to heal from such a shock, but he was sure that even another lifetime wouldn’t be time enough.

Her fingers at his neck where cool on his skin, and when she finished, Sebastian pulled her close. She didn’t try to move away from his embrace. When they finally went home to Varric’s, she stayed close, as they both seemed to need tonight. She offered him some more of the tonic she’d mixed with gin the other night that helped his fever diminish so quickly before, and then they undressed each other. On some other night, such an intimate act might have come to a more fitting conclusion, but the Chantry service and her confession had drained them both. It was only when Sebastian went to lay in the small sickbed that she stopped him.

“I want you tonight,” Melissa said. Her face immediately darkened, as if she’d said too much and regretted the words, but his pride wasn’t hurt. His body already ached, and he could be give her only one answer.

“This isn’t a night for loving. I don’t think I could,” he confessed, feeling less for admitting to his fatigue and general unwell state, but she shook her head.

“Not like that, I mean, that isn’t what I meant to say. I didn’t realize how that would sound until it was out. I just, I’d like to sleep with your arms around me tonight. It might keep some of my nightmares at bay.”

“My fever won’t make me a comfortable bed partner,” he said, but he was already getting into the large bed with her. Sebastian stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor on her side, and Melissa crawled into the large bed with him, dressed only in a chemise. After she blew out the last candle, he pulled her in his arms and they both pretended to sleep.

#

The next morning, Melissa woke up still cradled by Sebastian, his heavy arms around her and his sweating chest made the fabric of her nightgown stick to her back. One arm was beneath her pillow and easy to escape, but thrown over her middle was lifted up carefully after she’d peeled herself away from him. His fever hadn’t woken him up yet, and aside from some quiet murmurings in his sleep, he hadn’t been disturbed. She wouldn’t wake him, not yet, but she couldn’t stay with him all day this time. After a bath she’d go down for breakfast and find Fenris to sit with him.

As she bathed the scent of Chantry incense and sweat from her skin, she fretted. Melissa was worried that Sebastian might be starting to fall in love with her. The problem was twofold, because Sebastian wasn’t just a man, but a prince, and there were more restrictions on what kind of person a prince could love. She wasn’t that person, but she knew that she and Sebastian were spiralling deeper into a thorny mess with nights like the one before. Melissa didn’t believe herself so desirable that no one could resist her, but rather that Sebastian wanted to fall in love, and he wanted it to be with her. He had forgiven her rather rapidly after he found out they didn’t have a child, and had been upset with himself last night, not her for failing to tell him about her mother’s death since he’d been back. He was taking his role as her husband seriously.

Another thing irked her about all of this, and it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, not really. It was the fact that Sebastian didn’t know her very well at all. He only saw her as she was now, trying to be a proper princess, one that would be good at his side during courtly functions and could be his equal. It couldn’t have been clearer to her that Sebastian’s family never meant for him to ascend higher, because there was no way they’d have picked her to be his wife if they’d had even an inkling that he would one day rule Starkhaven.

But there was more to the issue, because though Melissa worried Sebastian might be falling for her, she knew she was falling for him. There was nothing in her that wanted to be the princess of Starkhaven, and that conflicted with the parts of her that wanted nothing more than to be with her husband at long last. Her husband would be the prince of Starkhaven, which would make her the princess. That was the problem.

No one would choose a murderess for a princess, and she’d definitely committed murder. Not justifiable homicide, a crime with which she was also familiar, but actual murder. She’d committed murder for hire, murder for personal gain, murder for revenge, and Melissa had never really stopped when she thought it necessary. Two years ago she’d killed again, and she shuddered at the memories. The Chantry had given Goran thirty days to prove Sebastian wasn’t fit to rule, and Goran had chosen his target well in her. He had already shown that he knew something about her, but Melissa didn’t know if it was enough to give the Chantry. If not yet, then he could surely find plenty of supporting evidence from her past to keep Sebastian from ascending to the throne.

The water swirled out of the tub basin and Melissa stepped out to dry herself, Wet hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back, and she attacked her hair. She had not the hot tongs and iron to create an elaborate straightened style, but she managed to braid her damp hair into a neat and evenly spaced style that would keep it from her face. When she was done with that, she was well past dry and able to put on her clothes. Sebastian still slept in the bed, as she knew he would and Melissa walked by him on slippered feet out to find Fenris.

She found him with Varric, trying to learn the rules of Diamondback. He was sitting at the table in the lounge with a furrowed brow as Varric sat across from him, his palms resting lightly on the top of the table to show that he wasn’t keeping them busy shuffling or switching cards under the table. She’d seen him try to teach Merrill enough times that she knew this, his favored posture of teacher and pupil, very well.

She was loathe to interrupt them, but as soon as she sat down, Varric greeted her with a smile. Fenris looked up from his cards, but his head was tilted in an unasked question. Melissa wasn’t sure if the question was for her or Varric.

“How many queens are in play?” he finally asked.

“Three,” Varric answered promptly.

“Didn’t you play Diamondback in the army?” she asked, curious.

“No, it was mostly Wicked Grace and Dead Man’s Tricks. That and dicing, when we had the time and some money,” Fenris said, not looking at her as he concentrated on the cards.

“What brings you down here, Hawke?” Varric asked.

“I was actually looking for Fenris,” Melissa answered. “I have errands I need to attend today but Sebastian is down with his fever and I wanted someone to sit with him, if you have the time.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Fenris said, rising from the table. Varric waved a hand at the cards.

“Take them with you and figure it out. There are only so many winning combinations. We can try again later.” He turned to Melissa after Fenris saluted her and left, the table cleared of cards as he’d piled them up and stuck them into a pocket. “I have news for you, Hawke.”

She was too impatient to listen right now, so Melissa launched in first. “He didn’t know about my mother dying. How could he if he was getting false letters from a fake version of me? I haven’t told him, but his cousin knew something last night at the Chantry. Varric, I’m not sure what to do next.”

“Wait, hold on. He didn’t even know that Leandra was gone? What have you two been talking about?”

“Staying alive. The fact that he’s not mad at all. A secret baby. His dead relatives, not my own. Malmagica.”

“Okay, so I can admit those are all more pressing topics than the past. Wait, what secret baby?” Varric asked, his eyes narrowed.

Melissa waved the question away impatiently, not ready to delve into that mire yet. The anxiety that had started as she thought over the night before had crescendoed into a fever pitch. “That doesn’t matter right now. What am I going to tell him?” she asked, and put her head down on the table.

“Tell him that the Flint Company was hired out to kill his family, and that you two should go on the offensive,” Varric said, his tone serious and stern. Melissa raised her head to look at him, drawn out of her self-flagellation. The Flint Company were mercenaries here, mostly used for killing off nobles, problematic Tal-Vashoth and Tevinters. They were a fierce lot, but not necessarily the best, just the most brutal.

“The entire company?” she asked, and Varric gave her a single, solemn nod. “How do you know?”

“Besides the fact that some of them met an untimely demise at the hand of your brother? My bartender heard a few of them asking about where to find you and Sebastian. Subtly, asking things like when you were going to be let into the palace, and it’s a wonder no one knows where you’ve been staying. It’s a good thing the Chantry was packed last night, because they didn’t deem the mass slaughter of the faithful at a memorial service part of their contract.”

“They attacked Carver?” she asked, her voice rising in alarm. Carver was more than capable of handling a few thugs, but the Flint Company had proven when it came to murder, they excelled at the deed.

“Whoa there, Waffles, Junior is fine. He can more than handle himself against a handful of mercenaries. Bethany is likewise well, I was assured. A letter should come tomorrow from them, but my man was faster on the roads from Kirkwall.”

“And Aveline has done nothing again, or did they not even have to tell her?” Melissa asked bitterly. Aveline was once not quite a friend, but closer than an acquaintance. Melissa had set her friendly feelings towards Aveline aside after her inattention to the case that cost Leandra her life. Aveline had never offered an apology about her mother’s death, only excuses that tried to place the blame on the templars.

“I don’t gather that her guards know,” Varric answered and Melissa let out an angry snort.

“Typical. Are the mercs looking for us?”

“Most ardently,” Varric replied. “Might be in your best interest to turn it around on them.”

“Have you had any news from the Chantry?”

“Not since last night. People are divided on you and Sebastian versus Goran, but everyone’s talking this morning. All of Starkhaven is waiting to come fully out of mourning so they can watch the fight for the throne. The Chantry mothers are keeping their own counsel on the situation. They’re still waiting on Goran to produce his reasons that Prince Sebastian is unfit to rule. Where he’s searching is anyone’s guess at this point. Whispers are out the he might be trying to find out if Sebastian is derelict in his military duty.”

“Not hardly,” Melissa said firmly. She thought of all the medals pinned to his chest the night before, and how he told her the army doctors had corroborated his innocence to the Chantry and shook her head at Varric. “He’s discharged for medical reasons and they will certainly grant him a full honorable discharge once he’s named prince.”

“Could be an issue if he finds out about the malmagica,” Varric said, rubbing his chin as he thought on it. “He could say that he’s not well enough to do it.”

“Rubbish. If anything I think he’s trying his luck with finding something on me. He mentioned Mother’s death last night.”

“Are you worried?” Varric asked, looking up to meet her eye as did. It was a loaded look to follow up that question, but Melissa couldn’t look away from him.

“Yes. Maker, yes,” she said emphatically, blowing out a hard breath. It turned into a cynic’s laugh, bitter and tired at the same time. She went on, “It was different when he was the third son of the prince who had no plans on dying soon.”

“They never plan on dying, Hawke. I think that’s the failing of very powerful men; they forget that they’re mortal just like the rest of us.”

“Speaking of mortals, I should go make a few less of them, if the Flint Company is looking for me. Slow them down until Sebastian is well enough to be moved.”

“Want some backup?” he asked, voice too casual for it have just occurred to him. “Merrill should be back tonight or tomorrow, but Bianca and I are always at your disposal.”

“You know,” Melissa said, cocking her head to the side and smiling, “I might just have to go out tonight as well, if we don’t find them today. I do hope you and Merrill are up to it.”

Varric grinned right back at her. “Let me get my crossbow. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.”

In Kirkwall, he’d gone with her countless times out to rid the city of people just like the Flint Company, but here in Starkhaven, she’d all but hung up her daggers. Her job had become restoring Lothian Castle, waiting for Sebastian and letting Carver run the family in Kirkwall. Sleeping through her life, waiting, unsure of what to do or say and afraid that her past would come back to haunt her. But she was her past, and all that she’d learned from it, wasn’t she? Melissa fairly skipped down the hall back to her room, wondering why it was that only missions like this made her feel so much like herself again.


	9. Dances

Sebastian was going to have to take his wife to a party. He’d been dreaming about it in his feverish, sickly state. Snatches of haunting music wove in and out of spinning dreams that combined too many memories with wishes to be anything pleasant. In his mind he danced with Melissa, twisting and spinning, twirling her through a crowd of people until they were both nothing but a whirl of color swept up in song. His mother’s face looked on from the sidelines, disapproving, but never stopping their infinite dance.

When his fever broke, Sebastian found Fenris at his bedside. He wasn’t surprised to find Melissa absent, but it disappointed him just a little. Fenris had been at his side for three years, so he could never fault his loyalty or dedication, but he had been hoping for Melissa. Sebastian shivered as he sat up, cold now that his sickness was starting to ebb from his body. He hadn’t been wrong the night before, his malmagica was running its course, though it would recur in the future. The worst part of his disease was that he had no inkling of when it would rear up again, putting him down at inconvenient times and making appearances difficult. 

“I suppose it’s part of my test from the Maker,” Sebastian said, shocking both himself and Fenris by voicing his thoughts aloud.

“Prince Sebastian?” Fenris asked, but Sebastian waved a tired hand at him.

“I’m sorry. This fever has me speaking my thoughts when they’re better left in my head,” Sebastian explained. “Where’s my wife?”

“Out. Presumably with Varric, as she has been for most of the day. She came to me this morning and asked me to stay with you. They were following up a lead, Varric told me about it earlier before the princess came, but that’s all I know.”

“How does she seem to you, Fenris?” Sebastian asked. Fenris considered his question and him with a thoughtful gaze before answering. The silence didn’t bother Sebastian, he filled his time with drinking water and settling himself back on the pillows so he could be propped up whilst sitting among them.

“It’s strange. She seems torn, but between what I cannot say. Her actions are of a woman that cares deeply and is fiercely protective, but has something to hide,” he finally answered.

“Aye. I’ve thought that myself,” Sebastian agreed. “But I care for her, and I’m certain that’s mutual.”

“You should be careful, Your Highness,” Fenris said, but then gave his deep, dry chuckle. “She quite loves you and is angry at herself about it.”

“How do you know that?”

“She’s a woman that was holding out for a man that doesn’t exist, and that must be disappointing, no matter how things are between the two of you. For that reason, she’s angry that she loves you the way she does now. But the princess is quite clear in her feelings for you, though I doubt she knows it.”

“She kissed me, and then I kissed her several times. The night we went to the palace, we were hiding together, alone in the dark, and she kissed me, ” Sebastian admitted, and Fenris nodded.

“I thought the two of you seemed closer. Be careful, Your Highness. I don’t think she knows her mind yet, at least not about you, but the feeling is there.” Fenris looked away from him, and didn’t ask if Sebastian loved her. He need not at this point, not after knowing Sebastian for so long and being both confidante and protector, friend and brother in arms.

They were silent for several minutes as Sebastian thought on the declaration that his wife was in love with him. A feeling akin to triumph but more overblown crept through him, making Sebastian feel like he might do anything, though his limbs were still weak and his hands shook when Fenris brought him the disgusting bone broth and soft bread that made up his late lunch. Sebastian let the quiet linger, grateful that Fenris never had a need to fill the air with the sound of his voice to make himself more comfortable.

They had so much to do together. He would have to take her to a social event next, but they wouldn’t dance. It wouldn’t be proper for them at the first event after a period of mourning, but Sebastian wasn’t upset about that. After his disturbing dream, he didn’t want to dance with Melissa, not in the way he’d dreamt it. Fenris’s words made him realize that he wanted to talk to her more than he wanted to do much else with her. If he could confirm them, hear her say that she loved him, then he’d think about dancing with her. The thought of falling in love with her thrilled and terrified him, especially in the face of what may come as ruler of Starkhaven.

Sebastian entertained every thought with a quiet satisfaction in his heart. If only he could get her to admit her love to him, they could be a force together, because Sebastian was quite certain he loved Melissa too.

#

Blood ran unchecked down the front of her leather jerkin, but none of it was Melissa’s own blood. Maker, she missed Merrill. And Carver and Bethany. Slaughtering the Flint Company wasn’t nearly as much fun without them around. No, that was a lie, it was more fun because her heart was racing and she was sweating buckets under her armor, but her hand was steady and a smile came easily to her lips. This felt better than the running and hiding and solving she was required to do with Sebastian just so he could take his rightful place. This was action, and as ever, she was a woman of action. She wasn’t a killer, not really, but Melissa hated being helpless, and these mercs had tried to force her into helplessness.

She and Varric hadn’t spoken words in hours, but she could almost hear what he was thinking. _“Haven’t we done enough, Hawke?”_ She might have said yes, if she were just worried about herself, but she was protecting the last legitimate son of Starkhaven these days. They were done for today, but not done yet. The Flint Company was down at least a third of their active mercs in Starkhaven from their efforts, and she’d hopefully be able to take down more of them tomorrow. That number sounded good in her mind, but there were far more people to take down than the ones she’d managed to find in the daylight. They’d be hiding in their warrens, expending their effort at night, trying to find her and Sebastian. Now, she’d given them another target, something to focus on instead of finding their hiding place.

The watchers they had scattered around the outskirts of Starkhaven center, the mercs watching the roads and harassing caravans and riders, they were all gone. It almost felt like the old days, when she was busy keeping the roads safe, and running errands for the Kirkwall Guard. That almost made her mouth twist bitterly, but she redirected her focus to the Flint Company and her victory against them today. Dead mercs were always a plus, especially when they’d been hunting for her. These weren’t the best of the best by any means, but they weren’t all low level recruits and pushovers either. No one had seen either her or Varric until it was too late, and there was no backup on the way. It would take them some time to restructure, and hopefully they’d spread themselves thin as they did. Their disorganization gave her time. Time that she could use to take care of Sebastian, find this secret baby, a missing and potentially dead duke of Nevarra, and figure out what to do about Goran.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have that much time, but a girl could dream. At least she could get back to Sebastian and tend to his malmagica. He’d been right before, the bouts were less fierce with each recurrence, and they would soon dwindle. He would still be ill, but she might be able to keep it from coming back anytime soon. The problem was that the malmagica, the disease itself lived within him, dormant until it wasn’t, and devastating for the first few days as it reasserted itself. His life was in danger with every flare up of the disease, and she needed to help him. Maker, all she wanted to do was help and protect him, and even that urge scared her. With that she thought she was close to understanding how to help him manage it, but she needed more resources and time for additional research.

She always needed something more than what she had, but no Fereldan was a stranger to making due. With her feet to the fire, she was going to learn to make due for Sebastian before she left.

That was one thing she was certain of now too, that she had to leave Sebastian.

“You all right, Hawke?” Varric asked her in a quiet voice. They’d made their way back to the Fat Damsel in silence, and they were standing in a darkened interior of a store room, one where she could clean her blades and armor so it didn’t look like she’d just exited a slaughterhouse.

“I should get back to my husband,” she said, careful to omit Sebastian’s name and why she might need to hurry back to him. Any slip and someone might figure it out, and if she was ever going to vow one thing, it was to keep her family safe. She’d failed her mother, but she wouldn’t fail her husband. “Don’t tell him about today.”

“He should know.”

“Fine. Tell him you did it and I arranged for people to help. Tell him that a nercromancer from Nevarra resurrected the palace guard to get revenge or that Merrill’s clan came up on great land ships from Ferelden to help. Say that a pirate queen sailed in on high and swept them all away.”

“She’s not due here for a while,” Varric said softly, giving her a smile. “He’s a soldier. He’ll respect the fight.”

Melissa shook her head, knowing Sebastian better than Varric ever would. They’d picked those mercs off today, not brought them to battle. She had daggers, not longswords, and she’d tricked, cajoled, sneaked and poisoned them today, not fought a respectable fight. The feeling of the medals pinned to his uniform came unbidden to the tips of her fingers, and she squeezed them together to banish the residual sensation. What she’d set out to do was staunch the tide of the threat that was stalking them, and she did, but Maker knows she wasn’t going to go to Sebastian and crow about her deeds. This was just sanitation work, not noble battle.

“Not when I’m supposed to sit quietly by his side.” On a throne, but she didn’t have to add that part for Varric to get her meaning. He sighed heavily, but didn’t say anything else. “I’m going. Let them know to expect me. I suppose your runner will get there first before I finish up here.”

“Probably. Hawke,” Varric said, and then shook his head, not looking at her as he finished with, “I hope he appreciates it.”

“Me too,” she said, and turned back to making herself less of a bloodied mess so she could get through town to the dwarven section of town without being stopped by the guard. She could look like a mercenary, but not a murderer. There was a difference, small though it may seem to most people. Her weapons couldn’t be gory, and while she could be dirty, she couldn’t show signs that she’d been in a battle recently. It was like this coming back into Kirkwall too, until they got used to the sight of her.

It took her another half hour to get to where she felt presentable and was able to go on the streets with her helm on. Despite her desire to return to Sebastian, Melissa was curious about the night before. Their big Chantry debut must have caused some waves, and she’d been so hell bent on killing the Flint Company that she hadn’t thought about listening to some gossip until now. Somewhere by the Maker’s side, Leandra was chiding her for her thoughtlessness. Gossip was always useful, just to know what was being said, and right now it was the only gauge she had of public opinion before she and Sebastian made their next move.

Melissa loitered in the Merchant Square, listening to people as they shopped. She grunted at a knifemaker and pointed to his wares, pretending to browse them as people spun around her. For a few minutes she thought she’d have to wait a while to hear anything about her, but she’d been wrong. It was naive of her to think that only the nobles would have been paying attention to her and Sebastian last night, because of all Starkhaven was buzzing with talk of the two of them and Goran.

“He’s a war hero. We should respect his lineage and service and give him the throne,” said a woman nearby. “Prince Sebastian is our rightful prince.”

“I don’t like his wife. We never even knew he married for certain, and now she’s hanging on his side, wearing his colors.”

“Hush, that’s what royal wives are supposed to do. Would you like her more if she came in and declared herself princess wearing the colors of her family? No, don’t be daft. He was a third son, so of course we never saw him with the big wedding. No one expected him to be heir.”

“All the more reason he’ll be bad at it.”

“We still don’t know who killed the royal family,” a whispered voice said as she walked by. They gave her a dubious look in her well-used armor and edged away. Melissa moved away from the knifemaker and went to peruse armor, making her wants known in the same, silent way as she listened to the people around her.

“Not liked by the Chantry, His Highness. I heard that the Mothers there are protecting Goran, and the templars side with Prince Sebastian. A big mess.”

“Might be in need of new pieces,” said a big man near her as he talked to the armorer. “If His Highness has to replace the entire royal guard. We’ve all got a shot at a better job, and a good life. Prince Rodric treated the guards very well, which is why they fought for him until the end.”

Gossip was a gateway to the thoughts of people, but it led to a dungeon. Melissa had heard enough. There were other conversations around her, more speculation about her and Sebastian, those more mundane chats that happened in every market, every day. People bickering about prices and quality. There were servants trying to acquire everything on their lists, and shoppers of all kinds there just to enjoy the social aspect. Melissa slipped through the crowd and back to Varric’s house, to Sebastian. She had a lot to tell him about today, and it worried her that she was excited to see him again.

#

That evening, Sebastian went to dinner and found himself the only one there. Varric never joined them, so Sebastian wasn’t expecting him, but Melissa was late. He bade the servants hold the food until she came, but even after the second chime for dinner, she didn’t show up. When he’d bored of sitting by himself, he went to Melissa’s stillroom and found her there. She’d checked on him late this afternoon, not too long ago, but hadn’t stayed after giving him another dose of medicine. Sebastian had fallen asleep again, but he wasn’t as ill has he had been, and woke up hungry and alone in bed. Waving off Fenris, he went to dinner, expecting to see his wife, but from the looks of it, she was too busy to remember to eat. He watched her from the doorway, just as he had the night before. It felt like the Chantry service had been a week ago, not a mere day.

She’d come in and changed earlier, and now she was wearing her familiar day dress, thin and brushing just past her knees, it hid none of her curves. He liked that simple cotton dress just for those reasons. Melissa moved slowly, tiredly, checking her mixtures. Sebastian might have mistaken her lethargy for meticulousness if she hadn’t yawned. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face like it had been the night they’d gone to the castle, an elaborate tapestry of braids running across her head. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, making Melissa jump. She truly hadn’t noticed him there, and it had been close to five minutes 

“I didn’t see you there. Is it dinnertime?”

“Past it.”

“I didn’t hear the bell. How are you feeling?” she asked, still not looking up at him. Her eyes were on a slowly bubbling mixture that sounded like popping corn if it could somehow be encased in a glass beaker.

“Better. Tired. Tomorrow it may come again, but I can feel this bout ending. It’s not as bad as it could be. Melissa, will you eat with me?” He was going to have to invite her to dinner, otherwise Sebastian was certain she wouldn’t leave this room. Even at his request, she hesitated, biting into her lower lip with one of her front teeth as she considered it. Sebastian moved closer to her, across the table where she worked. They were close enough to touch if he reached out, but he didn’t try to, not yet.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said as she carefully took the beaker away from the heated burner that been making it boil and bubble. “I went to the market today to listen to gossip, since we were out last night. There were quite a few people there that weren’t convinced you and I were truly wed.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, and Sebsatian was suddenly eager to hear this bit of nonsense. He wanted to know, needed to hear her thoughts on what she’d taken in.

“There are always going to be people that think I wasn’t your true wife. I’m sure even people down near Lothian would say that there was no way we were ever truly married. You were never there,” she said, and then transferred her vial to water bath. “But what I mean is that the rumors seem odd. Like they were fabricated recently, or rather that people hadn’t even thought about you until just now, which would be odd, since there was always interest in you and your family. It’s part of the duty. But if there were new rumors, ones doubting that you were married to me, that means there’s a reason for spreading them.”

“As if someone wanted people to think we weren’t legitimate.”

“Right,” she said, and smiled up at him. “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. I heard lots of things, many opinions, but that rumor struck me as so odd. Royal marriages aren’t all public events, but no one has had reason to doubt them before.”

“You think it’s Goran?” he asked, following her thoughts, but apparently not correctly. Melissa shook her head at him.

“He couldn’t even keep himself together very well last night. He barely could contain his glee at mentioning my mother’s death. No, he’s not a mastermind, but a pawn. I think we still have a greater enemy.”

“Where else did you go today?” Sebastian asked, and Melissa’s eyes betrayed her shock at the question, though she quickly looked away from him.

“Varric told me there were mercenaries looking for us. I wanted to see if it was true.”

“You put yourself in danger?” Sebastian asked, his voice soft. He marvelled that he was able to sound so controlled when he wanted desperately to yell at her, to shake her and tell her how much of a bad idea that was. She’d asked him to keep her safe, and searching for mercs sounded decidedly reckless to his ears.

“Not more than usual. We were very careful. It’s the Flint Company, if you want to know. They were hired to murder your family, and again, I think not by Goran. Would he have the funds to hire the entire company?”

“Likely not, at least not without needing to raise a noticeable amount of capital. He could have sold some properties or mortgaged them, but that doesn’t seem likely,” Sebastian admitted. His mind was racing as he digested her words. The Flint Company had killed his family, and now they wanted to make sure they wiped out his line by finding him. They’d have to be very careful from now on. Perhaps it was time to depart Varric’s hospitality. Sebastian was by no means friends with the man, but that didn’t mean he wanted him to be put in harm’s way for them either. It was always safer to move than it was to get comfortable.

“Will you come to dinner now and tell me all about your theories?” Sebastian asked, his voice still soft, but this was not a request. Melissa frowned up at him but she put her experiment away.

“I will, though I want to come back to this. I think I’m onto something for your malmagica. We should discuss what invitations we will accept next, and what we will do,” she said. Melissa was still nervous about something, seeming to steel herself before going on. “Sebastian, are you prepared for this? A lot of unpleasant things are going to happen, and I feel that the death of your family simply kicked this into motion. It will be worse as we get deeper. People will say things, about you, about me, your family, our connections, everything, and this isn’t going to be easy to endure.”

“I have you,” he said softly, and Melissa’s eyes lit up before she could turn away. Sebastian went around the worktable to catch her, and brought her into his arms. “I can do this with you.” When he kissed her, Sebsatian tried for sweet. He tried to keep his hands from running all around her body, and he told his tongue to behave itself, but nothing listened to his warnings. He kissed her hard, body responding to her touch with an agenda all of its own making. It was clear that between the two of them, they didn’t do anything as tame as sweet.

Sebastian wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life. Melissa kissed him back, returning vigor and matching it with desperation of her own. Whatever reluctance had built up her resistance on her day out was crumbling rapidly. Her hands were under his shirt, fingers exploring the skin of his torso, combing through his chest hair. His were busy groping handfuls of her hips and backside, bringing her closer into their already deep kiss, needing more of her than he could get upright with all of his clothes on. She moaned into his kiss when he squeezed her gorgeous ass, rubbing over the area he’d just squeezed with a soothing open palm. A fingertip teased his nipple, and Sebastian groaned as pleasure suffused him all the way through to his toes.

“We should go eat,” Melissa said, whispering the words against his lips, unable to pull herself away.

“I would put you on your back on this table and make you the feast. Legs spread wide, hot and wet just for my mouth. Would you like that, Lissa? Do you want me to make love to you with my tongue?” His voice was raspy, low, and more dangerous rumble than sound, but he knew she’d heard him.

She didn’t reply to his lewd words, but she didn’t shy away either. Melissa was glassy-eyed and lost in lust, and he so wanted her to answer. Sebastian let his thumb drift over her nipple, seemingly a casual caress on the first pass but as he went back again and again, he coaxed it to hardness under the pad of his thumb, teasing a stuttering moan from her when he pinched the hard nub through the fabric of her dress. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice still low.

“I lied before. I don’t want to be safe,” she admitted in a whisper, and then surprised him by slipping her hand though the undone laces of his trews and taking his cock in her hand. He hadn’t realized she’d unlaced his trousers, but he was hard in hands without any barrier between the soft skin of her palms and his sensitive flesh.

“I didn’t think you needed my protection,” he murmured, and then he shut up as she took him fully in her hand. His voice faded completely, all sound and time dimmed as she got on her knees in front of him. The glorious slide of her tongue up his shaft nearly rendered him immobile, but Sebastian soon found himself rocking and muttering instructions, leaning into her every touch. Her mouth was hot and perfect around his cock, and he sank into the endless bevy of pleasure she offered so willingly.

It felt like a longer time than it probably was. He was fighting against the inevitable conclusion, trying not to lean too far into the glorious feeling of her moth on him but loving every second of it. Sebastian wouldn’t close his eyes, he didn’t dare blink because every single movement and twitch of Melissa as she sucked his cock for the first time in their marriage. It was far more than his depraved imagination could have conjured even on his filthiest night. Though he fought not to let it end too quickly, soon his hands were on her hair, feeling the ridges of her braids imprinting on his palms as he guided her in just the right way so he could climax. His orgasm came with a swirl of her tongue across the engorged tip of him, and then he was unable to keep his shout inside any longer. His were hips rolling and knees shaking as three years of absence and loss concertinaed into this moment of intimacy. He came hard, yelling out her name at the crescendo of his climax until he was sated, shaking and then he’d turned the word _Melissa_ into a whispered benediction. 

When he was done, Sebastian pulled her to him with quivering arms and kissed Melissa. The salty taste of his seed was on her swollen lips, and he didn’t want to stop kissing her. They were together again, finally, and she was kissing him back, in his arms and seemingly unwilling to let him go. As she clung to him, he could feel her heartbeat and it matched the rhythm of his own. These were sweet kisses, though his hand did find its way up her skirt. Sebastian played with the edge of her smallclothes, testing her resolve, feeling her wetness as it came through the fabric. She still wanted him, and that was a heady aphrodisiac, even if he had just come. 

He half expected a knock at the door, something to force them apart, but there was nothing but the two of them for as long as they needed. He kissed her softly once more, the urgent edge of his desire worn away into pure sleepiness after his illness and the pleasure he’d been dealt from her mouth. His fingers still traced paths under her dress, but she hadn’t urged him on. She may have wanted him, desired his tongue and fingers, needed to be spread across the table as he’d suggested, but that breathless fantasy was no longer making itself known to him. As they kissed, there was no angling of her hips and rubbing against his fingers, so he asked.

“I’m not too tired to put you on that table,” he teased, whispering it along the column of her neck as he kissed her. His hands had stopped questing under her dress, and now he was gently rubbing her skin, unable to feel like he’d ever get enough of the velvety way her thighs felt under his touch. Melissa didn’t answer him, but kept kissing him. Her kisses were less insistent now, more leisurely, and soon, she stopped to rest her head against his shoulder.  
  
“I just want to spend time with you, while you’re well. We should go to dinner,” she said softly, and Sebastian waited. Her hands were around his waist, and they stayed put. There was no more of the flirting, the taunting that brought her to her knees, just the gentle contentment that spilled between them. For a moment, he was confused, because these types of deals were always _quid pro quo_ , everyone had to finish. But Melissa seemed uninterested in being eaten like a Satinalia buffet, and more in just staying close to him. She was giving him a soft smile, pleased with herself and her efforts when he looked down at her, but there was nothing insisting that they continue. She held out a hand to him after he put himself away into his trousers, and she straightened her dress. He wasn’t used to this, but he took her hand anyway, and they finally made it to their long overdue meal.


End file.
